Return to the Black Pearl
by Kettch-22
Summary: A year after The Curse of the Black Pearl, Will sets off on a quest that raises questions about an old friend of Jack's...who turns out to be a new enemy.
1. Chapter One, Scene One

**RETURN TO THE BLACK PEARL**

I can't believe I actually got around to writing this. It's a miracle. Cue the heavenly choir.

No, really!

CAST OF THOUSANDS: We believe you.

ME: Hey! Don't you belong to Otherhawk? And shouldn't you be ostracizing her new fanfic, "Blood Rising," which REALLY ought to have been updated now?

CAST OF THOUSANDS: Yes, to all of the above.

ME: Okay, whatever.

Anyway, this was supposed to only be twenty chapters, but they're on the long side. They take me forever to type up, so instead of posting the chapters, I'm going to break them up and post them in scenes. Make any sense?

CAST OF THOUSANDS: No, but you seldom do.

ME: How would you know? You haven't known me that long!

CAST OF THOUSANDS: It doesn't take that long to tell.

ME: Fine. Be that way.

* * *

**Chapter One: A Good Morning, Part One**

A wet, salty sea breeze caused the beads in the matted black hair of Captain Jack Sparrow to make faint clicking noises as they clattered against each other. He stood at the wheel, compass in hand, guiding a ship with black sails to an island that no one could find, unless they already knew where it was.

The _Black Pearl_ was now three days out on the water.

From above him came the voice of Jack's quartermaster, known to all but Jack as Bootstrap Bill Turner, perched in the crow's nest of the _Black Pearl_. "Land ho!" he called.

Jack could barely see the tiny speck in the distance, but from what his compass was telling him, it was not the destination of the _Black Pearl_. Even so, her crew all abandoned their duties to scramble to her sides to peer hungrily at the tiny island, still a day's distance from them.

"Is that it?" demanded one of the new crewmembers, a heavyset, balding pirate with yellow eyes that suggested jaundice whose name Jack couldn't for the life of him recall.

"No," responded Jack laconically, once again checking his bearings with his compass.

The breeze died away and the crew went unnaturally still and quiet, the atmosphere of the _Black Pearl_ suddenly taunt with a sense of watchfulness.

"Then where is it?" demanded a new voice, a gravelly one, one that belonged to the grizzled older man that was Jack's new first mate, Barbossa. Jack turned slightly to regard him. Barbossa gestured at the crew in general. "We've been...discussin' the situation," he said, and the monkey on his shoulder screeched and jumped on to the rigging. "The lot of us, we have. If we're all to have an equal share of the treasure, then we should all know where it is, aye?" he said, raising his eyebrows after the last sentence, and most of the men murmured their agreement. "Just in case...somethin' should happen to our illustrious leader," he added, turning back to face Jack.

Jack considered his words for a moment. He knew the bearings of the Isla de Muerta, and the crew knew this, but what they didn't know was that the compass that appeared to be broken—it did not point North—in fact pointed always to the island. It would do no harm to tell them the bearings, if they wanted to know. "Of course," he decided. "That seems fair."

So he told them the bearings.

By the time that dusk fell aboard the _Black Pearl_, the island had transformed from a tiny speck on the horizon into a tiny speck that was fairly close by. Jack traded his position at the wheel with his first mate, saying only "Wake me at dawn," to the man.

But once inside his cabin, instead of sleep, Jack fell into a bottle of rum. Draining it took the better part of the night. A few hours into his rum, he heard the sound of men scuffling bellow deck. He decided against investigation—the giant of a man that was his bo'sun could enforce discipline without any help from Jack. Sure enough, the noise died down until it was eerily quiet on the _Black Pearl_.

Rays of sun were appearing through the cracks of the cabin walls, and Jack was mid-swallow of the last few drops of the rum when a knock came from his cabin door. Dropping the now-empty bottle on the already bottle-covered floor, Jack navigated his way around several large piles of junk and opened the door.

To thirty or forty pistols and cutlasses pointed at various parts of his anatomy.

A monkey screeched and jumped onto the shoulder of the man who smiled and said, "Good morning, Jack."

* * *

Nice start, huh?

CAST OF THOUSANDS: We hope the rest is more exciting.

Well, if anyone has more CONSTRUCTIVE criticism, feel free to review. In fact, I insist on it. No, really.


	2. Chapter One, Scene Two

RETURN TO THE BLACK PEARL

GORE: You stole my movie!

ME: Actually— [gets slapped by enraged director] Borrowed. Borrowed without permission. But with every intention of giving it back to you.

GORE: But you didn't!

ME: You'll make another one.

GORE: I will.

CAST OF THOUSANDS: A better one.

ME: A better one!

CAST OF THOUSANDS: That one. [points to script of POTC2]

ME: What one? That one?! [pauses] Aye, that one. What say you?

GORE: Aye!

ME: Aye!

CAST OF THOUSANDS: Aye!

* * *

**Chapter One: A Good Morning, Part Two**

He sat bolt upright, his eyes darting wildly around a familiar cabin. Struggling to his feet, he staggered to a basin of water that he splashed onto his face.

A respectful rap on the door made him jump, but it was the voice of his quartermaster rather than that of his former, mutinous first mate's that said, "Ship comin' up on us, Cap'n."

Captain Jack Sparrow shut the door behind him as he stepped out on the deck of the _Black Pearl_. "That so?" he grunted at Joshamee Gibbs as he gazed at the small merchant vessel on the water.

"Aye, sir," Gibbs responded, unnecessarily. "We goin' to take 'em?"

Jack allowed a feral grin to creep across his face. "That we are," he answered.

The merchant ship hoisted the British flag, and Jack considered his response.

"Captain?" asked Anamaria, the current first mate of the _Black Pearl_.

"Run up the Jolly Roger," Jack decided. There no point in flying false colors; the _Black Pearl_'s trademark black sails would have given her away eventually anyway.

The pirate flag was raised in an answer to the other ship, who immediately turned around and tried to flee rather than trying to make a stand. "Give chase," Jack ordered. Anamaria nodded her understanding and began shouting instructions to the crew.

The _Black Pearl_ caught the other ship—the white lettering on her sides labeled her as the _Duty Free_—easily, and the _Duty Free_ surrendered without a fight.

"Get ready to board," Jack called to the crew, half disappointed at how easy it had been. "Take the money and the valuables—and the rum—as well as," he added, a sudden twinkle in his eyes, "anything of military value." But we'll be nice and leave them their stores and water." Jack saw Gibbs shake his head over that, but banished that from his mind. "And try and leave everybody in one piece. Savvy?" He shoved his pistol and cutlass into the sash tied jauntily around his waist, grabbed a line, and prepared to swing aboard the _Duty Free_.

= = =

The crew of the _Duty Free_ were rounded up and tied to the masts by Gibbs and Cotton while Jack accepted the first mate's meek surrender—it seemed that the captain had died early on the voyage. The parrot perched on Cotton's shoulder flapped its wings and squawked, "X marks the spot! X marks the spot!"

Gibbs looked at Jack and said, "Cotton here says that's all of 'em, Cap'n."

Anamaria led the all of the pirates who weren't still on the _Pearl_ though the _Duty Free_, taking everything that had value and some that hadn't, but for the most part adhering to Jack's instructions. After combing below deck, they ransacked the captain's quarters, but found little else but a bag of coins minted by various countries and several pieces of jewelry.

The pirates had turned the cabin over before deciding that there was nothing left to turn and opted to leave and take their booty back to the _Black Pearl_. Anamaria was about to leave as well when something caught her eye.

She walked slowly over near where the captain's desk had been upended and moved aside a drawer that had been pulled out. Anamaria picked up a round, black object approximately the size of her hand, smooth and silky to the touch, with a gentle sheen on it.

Anamaria stared at it for a few seconds, entranced, and rolled it around in her cupped hands. Looking into it was like drowning, falling into a bottomless pool filled with black water that was dark with secrets. It was deep. You could lose yourself in something that deep. Dimly sensing that she had seen this before, she shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs that had suddenly appeared to cloud her memory.

Suddenly, Jack's call to prepare to return to the _Black Pearl_ penetrated her consciousness. Anamaria blinked and hastily shoved what she had been holding into a pocket. Perhaps she would remember it later. She bent to retrieve the cutlass that had somehow slipped out of her hand and hurried out onto the deck of the _Duty Free_, where Jack was saying to the suffering first mate still tied to the mast, an alcoholic beverage that was unmistakably rum in hand, "I can't thank you enough for your kindness. The gifts were lovely. However, we must be going. My compliments to our host."

The rest of the crew had already abandoned the _Duty Free_. Anamaria grabbed a line and swung back aboard the _Black Pearl_.

Jack grabbed one, too, and doffed his trademark three-cornered hat. He gave a mockingly deep, somewhat inebriated-looking bow to the crew of the _Duty Free_. "Gentlemen," he said to them, "this is a day that you will always remember as the day that you were plundered by Captain Jack Sparrow."

* * *

So, any good? If you don't like it, I probably won't write anymore of it. Just kidding, I'm going to keep writing it even if you don't like it. But review anyway, please. 


	3. Chapter One, Scene Three

**RETURN TO THE BLACK PEARL**

It's just occurred to me that I've forgotten to write a disclaimer in the first two chapters. So to make up for this shocking breech of manners, I've composed a poem for the situation.

CAST OF THOUSANDS: [screams of horror] No! Say it isn't so!

ME: It is so. And here it is:

"What's this?" you moan,

Well, read and review.

I don't own,

So please don't sue.

Ha! Whaddaya think about that?

CAST OF THOUSANDS: It's even worse than we thought it would be.

**

* * *

**

**Chapter One: A Good Morning, Continued**

As soon as Jack's feet hit the deck of the _Black Pearl_, he knew something wasn't right. It wasn't much of a feeling, just a nagging sense that his ship wasn't the same ship it had been mere minutes ago when he had boarded the _Duty Free_.

But whatever it was, it could wait, because the reason for abandoning the _Duty Free_ so quickly had been a ship appearing in the spyglass of Marty, who had been keeping watch in the crow's nest of the _Black Pearl_. Jack quickly climbed the rigging to join Marty, who pointed out the white sails and military polish that left no doubt in Jack's mind in who's fleet it was.

The _Duty Free_ floated in the water a short distance from the _Black Pearl_, her captain still tied to the mast and her crew held captive in the brig. Jack had a strong suspicion that the captain of the military ship, no matter much he might want to go pirate hunting, would remain with the _Duty Free_ for no better reason than duty. If there was anything more predictable than an officer of the Royal Navy, Jack had yet to meet it.

The regal-looking ship pulled in closer to the _Black Pearl_, close enough for Jack to recognize her as the _Dauntless_. She was not captained by the commodore, Jack realized with some regret, as he'd always enjoyed gloating. Instead, a pasty-faced officer stood at the helm. Jack didn't know which one; Norrington had any number of look-alike officers, all with the same pasty-white face that matched their wigs.

The other ship gained on the _Black Pearl_, but it didn't matter. Jack was already ten steps ahead of everyone else anyway, and he'd never been known to not have an ace up his sleeve. He idly wondered what the pasty-faced officer would think of the trick about to be played upon him.

= = =

A slow, pain-filled death was what the pasty-faced officer was thinking of when the fog surrounding the _Black Pearl_ cleared to reveal a sea minus one large pirate ship.

* * *

The end is in sight! The end of chapter one, anyways. 

No, really!

CAST OF THOUSANDS: What's after chapter one?

ME: Chapter two. And, while you're here, review!


	4. Chapter Two, Scene One

**RETURN TO THE BLACK PEARL**

Yay! Chapter Two has arrived!

PUSS IN BOOTS: Uh, excuse me—

ME: [gasps] My hero!

PUSS IN BOOTS: Me, a hero? Ooh, I am honored.

ME: [breathlessly] Will you marry me?

PUSS IN BOOTS: Uh, no, I'm engaged to a broomstick or an elephant or something.

ME: Drat. I don't even own Puss In Boots, so how can I possibly own Pirates of the Caribbean? Or even a new pair of socks?

* * *

**Chapter Two: From Out of Nowhere**

Commodore James Norrington cradled his head in his arms in a rare posture of defeat. Mere moments ago, one of his lieutenants had burst into his office with the news that a merchant vessel carrying large store of military supplies had intercepted, then plundered, by Captain Jack Sparrow. This was not news Norrington liked to hear, because it was the fourth time this year that he had heard it. And he had been counting on receiving those supplies. In Norrington's opinion, Sparrow took far too much glee in running his command straight into the ground.

Ever since his grand tumble off the battlements of the fort, Sparrow had been engaging Norrington in similar games of cat-and-mouse. Sparrow won most of them, leaving neither Norrington nor his men much incentive to continue such games.

Sooner or later, Norrington would have to go down to the docks for an official report from the _Dauntless_'s captain. He was not looking forward to it.

"Why me?" Norrington asked rhetorically. "What kind of person am I _dealing_ with?"

"Pirate," answered an amused voice, undeniably female, from behind him, and Norrington's heart skipped a beat. Mastering the sudden emotion that flitted across his face, he tuned to face the speaker.

Elizabeth Swann, daughter of the Governor and Norrington's former fiancé. The events that had occurred two years ago had knocked Norrington out of her heart, if, indeed, he had ever truly been in it, and replaced him with a young blacksmith not yet even out of his apprenticeship.

Norrington had tried to be a good sport about it. He was too fond of Elizabeth to force her to marry him if she didn't want to. The sincere, charming smile she wore now on her face reminded him again why. "Miss Swann, what a pleasure," he said, with a smile that changed from sadness to polite in a heartbeat. "What brings you here?"

Elizabeth's smile slipped a bit. "Actually, I'm here with Will," she explained, and looked over her shoulder as the Will in question, whose last name was Turner, walked into the room, Norrington's dress sword in his hand. The sword made a satisfying rasping sound as it was drawn from an elaborately decorated scabbard.

"Sharper than before," the blacksmith commented, handing the sword to Norrington for inspection.

"So I see," replied Norrington, examining it. He made a few passes with it and, satisfied, replaced it in the scabbard. "Many thanks, Mr. Turner."

"Having pirate troubles, Commodore?" asked Elizabeth.

"Indeed," Norrington acknowledged. "It appears as though your friend—and I use that term in the loosest sense possible—Mr. Sparrow has given up attacking my military vessels outright in exchange for attacking merchant vessels carrying my military supplies."

Will coughed, as though to stifle a laugh. Norrington couldn't blame him, really. Sparrow was only one man with one ship, and Norrington had innumerable men and ships at his disposal. So why couldn't he catch the man?

"I'm sorry for your loss, Commodore," said Elizabeth, shooting Will a quelling glare.

Norrington sighed. "As am I." He stood. "In fact, I must be going to see the _Dauntless_ in and find out first-hand what kind of tricks Sparrow pulled on my lieutenant."

Will and Elizabeth really did grin at that. "May we come, too?" Elizabeth asked. "I'd love to know what kind of tricks Captain Jack pulled on an officer of the Royal Navy."

Norrington reflected that the presence of Miss Swann would more than make up for the rather unwelcome society of Mr. Turner. "Yes, of course," he said.

* * *

PUSS IN BOOTS: You see, I'm looking for a Cast of Thousands; they may have come this way—

ME: I haven't seen anything. Just your big, enormous, oh-so-adorable green eyes.

PUSS IN BOOTS: That is very flattering, but would you please let go of me?

ME: Maybe, if I get some reviews.


	5. Chapter Two, Scene Two

**RETURN TO THE BLACK PEARL**

You know, this thought just occurred to me: in having succumbed to writing fanfiction, my life has now sunk as far as it could go.

CAST OF THOUSANDS: That's bloody depressing, mate.

ME: I take comfort in the thought that I am not alone.

CAST OF THOUSANDS: That's even more depressing.

Sorry, no Jack in this chapter. Then why bother to read it at all, you wonder. But don't worry. He'll be coming back soon, even though I don't own him and probably shouldn't put words in his mouth.

**

* * *

**

**Chapter Two: From Out of Nowhere, Continued **

Will felt odd as the three of them, an accompaniment of Marines and officers tailing Norrington, strode down the streets of Port Royal, Elizabeth and the Commodore engaged in light conversation. It had been a year since either he or Elizabeth had seen Jack Sparrow. But his exploits in the time between had reached their ears well enough.

The _Duty Free_ was docked not far from the _Dauntless_, still the largest ship in the Commodore's fleet and still the slowest. Elizabeth slipped as she walked up the wet pier in shoes not intended for such an outing. Both Will and Norrington reached to grab an arm to steady her, but she brushed them off, laughing. "Really slippy down here," she explained. Will shook his head and grinned as well.

Waiting at the _Dauntless_ was a pasty-faced officer whose name, Will recalled, was Lieutenant Gillette. He wore a white wig, an officer's uniform, and a hangdog expression.

"Lieutenant Gillette," Norrington said, somewhat pompously. "What happened with Sparrow?"

Gillette seemed to wilt. "He...disappeared, sir."

Norrington gave him an official, pompous, like-I-believe-that look. "He disappeared, Lieutenant Gillette?"

Will kind of wondered how Gillette had become Norrington's second-in-command. Norrington appeared to be contemplating that question himself.

"What, exactly, did Sparrow _do_?" Norrington asked. Gillette opened his mouth to speak, and Norrington hastily rephrased his question. "In other words, what happened?" he inquired.

"By the time I arrived on the scene, Sparrow had already boarded the _Duty Free_ and plundered it," recited Gillette glumly. Norrington winced at the "plundering." "He and his crew had just returned to the _Black Pearl_ when they must have spotted us. Sparrow didn't seem to be in any hurry to leave, but he turned her around, and then..." Gillette paused, "they were just _gone_. There was obviously no way to catch Sparrow, so we docked the _Dauntless_ to the _Duty Free _and freed her crew."

Norrington frowned. "What about the captain?" he asked.

"The captain died en route from England only three days out," Gillette explained.

"What of?" Elizabeth asked thoughtlessly.

"Scurvy, Miss Swann," Gillette informed her.

"How terrible," Elizabeth commented helplessly.

Norrington appeared to regroup. Digesting this unappetizing information. Wondering why on earth he had made the pasty-faced officer in front of him his second-in-command. Arriving at the answer to the question "Why can't I catch Sparrow?"

"All right," he said. "I want the captain's logbook and official records."

Gillette began the process of scurrying away, presumably to fetch them. "I'll get them myself," Norrington told him, locking his hands behind his back, spinning sharply on his heel, striding away.

Will glanced at Elizabeth, who shrugged and began to follow the commodore, half-lifting her skirts in order to keep up with his long stride. Will, in his breeches, had less of a problem in that department, but still found himself struggling to keep up.

The captain's logbook and any official records would be in the captain's quarters, so it was no surprise to Will when he found himself there. There was an old, battered desk under a port. Norrington began rummaging though the drawers, taking papers here and there. After some poking around, he pulled out a logbook that looked like the desk; it was worn and battered and had obviously seen better days. Lots of them.

Norrington straightened up under an armload of papers and the logbook, and as he did so, the logbook slid off the stack of papers and onto the floor. It came to land half-opened to a letter that looked fairly clean and new when compared to the desk and logbook. Will bent to retrieve it. His eyes slid down the letter casually and stopped cold when they reached the signature. His hand trembled. His face went white so rapidly that Elizabeth inadvertently glanced at the floor to see if a pool of blood had collected there, which Will would have seen if his eyes hadn't been glued to the letter.

Will suddenly became aware of the fact that Elizabeth had been talking to him for some time now. He focused on her voice. She was saying, "Will, what is it?" in a concerned sort of way.

"This," said Will numbly.

"Will?" Elizabeth's voice dropped to a whisper. "What is it?" Will passed the letter to her wordlessly. She read it all. Her brow furrowed in concern as she began, but when she reached the signature, her eyebrows shot upwards. "Will, this signature..." she began, but her voice trailed off.

"It's signed 'Bill Turner,'" Will finished for her hoarsely. "This letter was written by my father."

Norrington was staring at him. "But isn't he supposed to be dead?" he asked bluntly.

"Yes," Will said, an emotion constricting his throat. "He's supposed to be resting in pieces at the bottom of Davy Jones' locker."

Norrington took the letter from Elizabeth's hand, glancing first at Will as if seeking his permission. "It's dated six months ago," he remarked, the words loud in the hushed quiet of the cabin.

"What does it mean?" Elizabeth asked timidly. Will realized vaguely that she was afraid of him, for him, of how he was acting.

"What difference does it make?" Will snapped at her, and Elizabeth drew back, away from him. Part of him felt guilty for hurting her, but a side he'd never known he possessed rejoiced in her pain. "My father was alive when he wrote this."

He looked away from Elizabeth's hurt look and Norrington's deep frown. "My father's alive," he said quietly.

Elizabeth and Norrington could only stare at him.

* * *

Shocking, eh? 

CAST OF THOUSANDS: What, are you trying to be Master of Surprise?

ME: Totally. Wait 'til my next post, when I'll be Master of Deception. Nothing I write will be as it seems.

CAST OF THOUSANDS: Oh, and by the way, the Master of Deception wants you to review, but you didn't hear it from us.


	6. Chapter Two, Scene Three

**RETURN TO THE BLACK PEARL**

Yes! Another post! I'm the Master of the Universe!

CAST OF THOUSANDS: And so modest, too.

* * *

**Chapter Two: From Out of Nowhere, Continued**

Will strode through the crowded streets of Port Royal, one hand clenching the letter, the other in a fist.

He had had a year to absorb the fact that his father had been—and apparently still was—a pirate, buccaneer, all-around scallywag, but although his brain could process that bit of information, some secret layer he buried deep beneath fragile memories of his father and more recent memories of Jack could still not put the "pirate" and the good man he remembered as his father together. Jack had said, then proven, that pirates could be good people, that Bootstrap was one of those. _But_, Will thought, _he's Captain Jack Sparrow. He doesn't tell the truth even when he's telling the truth._ In coming to know Jack, Will had come to serious doubts concerning Jack's ability to tell the truth. Even if he was telling the truth about Bootstrap, his view of things, him being Jack Sparrow, would be seriously skewered. Perhaps Jack had seen nothing wrong in Bootstrap's behavior, but a normal person might disagree.

Without thinking about it, Will's feet took him along the way to the blacksmith's shop automatically. He passed a tannery, three shops, a tavern. Lost in thoughts that were taking him to a place he didn't especially want to go, Will didn't register the rapidly-moving blur that soared gracefully through the glass window of the tavern, placing Will in the direct trajectory of the temporary human missile.

_THUD._ The impact knocked Will off his feet and the air out of his lungs. He lay quite still, trying to suck air back in his lungs, trying to clear his eyes of the dust that had blown into them. When he thought he could manage it, he opened his eyes.

Obviously the human cannonball had suffered less than Will, for he had rolled off him and stood up, brushing dust and bits of shattered glass off clothing that, from what Will could see, was more in need of a good washing. He turned out to be a skinny, dirty man with dark hair, including facial, that hung down to his shoulders. From behind, he looked like...

Then the man turned around, beady dark eyes flickering nervously back and forth. Will felt an overwhelming surge of disappointment roll over him, so great that he could barely stand up. It couldn't have been him, but it was the kind of entrance that Will would have expected from Jack.

Will abruptly noticed a mob of angry men swarming from the tavern that the man next to him had appeared from. They didn't seem to be favorably inclined. Inclined to lynching, maybe. Will's tackler turned pale, or as pale as the filth and grime on his face would allow him to, and spun around, so obviously searching for a way to run that Will followed suit. There was none.

_Oops,_ thought Will. Without giving the matter another thought, he drew the sword hanging in a scabbard by his side. His tackler yanked a cutlass from the sash tied around his waist, jagged and with dried blood on the blade. Then the mob was upon them.

Will fought using the flat of his blade to knock out several drunken but still (or maybe more) dangerous men, not wanting to kill those who were probably neighbors. The man—who by now Will had realized had to be a pirate—seemed to have no such reservations. Will saw him run his filthy blade through two men at once. The mob's size had significantly shrunk by this time.

Will heard a shout come from behind him and turned to see a squad of marines running towards him and the pirate, somehow still in step. Out of the corner of his eye, Will saw the pirate take down the last of his attackers by seizing the man's almost-empty bottle, drain the last drops from it, and bringing it down hard on the man's head. The bottle didn't break, but the man's eyes glazed over and then rolled back into his head, knees buckling.

Will wasn't watching as the pirate turned away from his fallen opponent, crossed the distance from him to Will, and casually whacked him across the back of his head with an empty bottle of rum.

Glass flew everywhere, but Will didn't notice. He wasn't noticing much at the moment.

* * *

Reviews, reviews, my horse for a review. Actually, no, I wouldn't trade my horse for a review. I like my horse. My sisters, maybe.


	7. Chapter Two, Scene Four

**RETURN TO THE BLACK PEARL**

I'm sure everyone knows by now that I don't own Pirates of the Caribbean, because if I did, I wouldn't be here. And if you owned Pirates of the Caribbean, you wouldn't be here either.

CAST OF THOUSANDS: Sucker. No one _is_ here.

ME: Except you.

CAST OF THOUSANDS: Not voluntarily.

* * *

**Chapter Two: From Out of Nowhere, Continued**

Will opened his eyes and, fighting the blackness that threatened to carry him back to oblivion, eased himself to a sitting position. He started to shake his head to clear, then stopped. Bad idea. He touched the back of his head, and winced as his fingers ran across a good-sized lump under his hair.

Will stood up, then clutched his head. Also a bad idea. It seemed he'd had a lot of those lately. The marines were still around, picked up the drunk, semi-conscious men Will and the pirate had brought to that situation.

Norrington was among them. Will made his way painfully to him. When Norrington noticed him, he turned to him, anger evident in his face. "Well, I hope you're happy," he snapped.

Will winced. "More like bruised." He looked around for the pirate, but saw no traces of him, except for the shards of broken glass from the bottle that the pirate had used on him. "Where'd he go?"

"Where did _who_ go?" Norrington asked. "The pirate?" Will nodded, a bit too hard, then bit his lip hard as a shooting pain erupted in his skull. "He escaped." Norrington returned to glaring at Will. "Thanks to you. What were you _thinking_?" he demanded. "What did you possibly hope to accomplish by that incredibly foolish gesture? The pirate, who my men were _hoping_ to catch, got away and is now at large, probably busy stealing my ships while I'm occupied here, and heading off to cause who-knows-how-much damage. Thanks to you!"

Some of the marines looked up at their commodore's tone. Norrington lowered his voice. "You stuck your neck out for a pirate, and look where it got you—stabbed in the back by the very person you tried to help." In an even softer tone he said, "Not all men are like Jack Sparrow."

Will blinked, astonished, but Norrington turned away from him before he could think of some kind of response. Or get his head to stop pounding.

_What am I going to tell Elizabeth?_ Will thought suddenly with an internal groan.

He eventually settled for not telling her at all.

* * *

Review me! 

CAST OF THOUSANDS: And get us out of here!


	8. Chapter Two, Scene Five

**RETURN TO THE BLACK PEARL**

Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU, all my wonderful reviewers! Getting your reviews just makes my day.

CAST OF THOUSANDS: We know. We hear your insane giggling whenever you get one.

ME: Not a problem, as long as there's no one else in the room.

CAST OF THOUSANDS: See, the problem is that most of time, there are. And like us, they think you're weird.

Just a note: I'm going to be going back and editing my previous posts occasionally, just spelling and grammar and stuff, no major plot changes. So don't be alarmed if you notice minor differences.

* * *

**Chapter Two: From Out of Nowhere, Continued**

Will took supper at the Governor's mansion with Elizabeth and her father these days, but it was completely dark by the time he arrived that night, late. Elizabeth wondered where he'd been, what he had been up to since leaving the _Duty Free_. All he had said to her when he left her side was that he needed to be alone. Elizabeth didn't begrudge him his alone time, but she'd wished he had been more informative.

Elizabeth and Governor Swann had been sitting at the table for a good half hour, the governor looking empathically at the clock every five minutes and then at his daughter, who flushed, before Will arrived, panting and breathing heavily from a half-hearted effort to be on time. Elizabeth smiled at him anxiously. She had worried about him.

She was in the process of buttering a roll when Will dropped the bomb. "I'm going to England," he announced.

Elizabeth dropped her knife and Governor Swann choked on his drink, looking mildly astonished. "What?" Elizabeth squawked in dismay. However she had been expecting Will to handle the news—if it could be called news—about his father, this was certainly not it.

"The _Duty Free _will be sailing to England, and I'm going along. I've got it all worked out with Mr. Brown." Mr. Brown, Will's long-time master in the art of blacksmithing.

"Why are you going to England?" asked Governor Swann in total confusion. Elizabeth realized that he had no idea of the events of the day.

Will regarded him steadily. "To find my father."

"And how do you plan on doing that?" Elizabeth demanded.

Will sighed. "The letter contained an address. It was in London. I thought I'd start there first."

Elizabeth gazed at him in concern. This was probably only the second time in his life that Will had behaved rashly, the first having occurred a year ago when he and Jack had commandeered a ship from Norrington's fleet to rescue her. But if he was so eager to go..."Do you really have to?" she asked him softly, and looked closely into his eyes, as if she might find the answer written in his eyes.

Will didn't break her searching gaze. "I really have to," he said, also softly.

And he really had to, she knew. It was too important to him. If there was any chance that his father was still alive, even only a remote one, he had to take. And that, she reflected, left her with no choice. No choice at all. "All right," she agreed. Will looked surprised; her father flabbergasted. Elizabeth could practically hear their shared thought: _She's _agreeing_ to this lunacy? _Then she said, "I'm coming, too."

A second bomb dropped. Will and Governor Swann immediately broke into loud peals of dissention. She ignored them, picked up her knife and began to finish buttering the almost-forgotten roll. Slowly, their voiced died. "You'll need me," Elizabeth told Will, and after a pause, he reluctantly nodded.

"But, Elizabeth..." her father sputtered helplessly. "It's not your place..." Again, his voice trailed off.

"It is my place," Elizabeth said steadily in a tone that allowed no argument. "My place is beside Will." Will looked at her with an expression that was equal parts gratitude and lingering concern. Elizabeth smiled tremulously back at him.

Governor Swann appeared to relinquish his protests as well. He sighed loudly. "London, eh?" he asked Will in a resigned fashion.

"Yes," Will responded. He added as an afterthought to Elizabeth, "Norrington is captaining the _Duty _Free to prevent her being plundered again and was kind enough to offer me a place on board."

"Perfect," she said.

"Exciting," commented the governor, adjusting his wig. "I've always loved London in the fall."

Elizabeth slowly picked up her fork and resumed her dinner. "So..." she said slowly, "how was _your_ day, Will?"

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Review, please!

CAST OF THOUSANDS: Check, please!


	9. Chapter Two, Scene Six

**RETURN TO THE BLACK PEARL**

People who use multiple exclaimation points frighten me.

No, really. No one can be that happy.

CAST OF THOUSANDS: You know, you frighten US sometimes.

And I don't normally do this, but: Raberba girl, I was so sorry to see your "Really Bad Eggs" fic taken down. I just loved it. Seeing it gone made me so mad. And Divinia, I hope the plot is going fast enough for you. Please, keep the encouragement coming!

* * *

****

**Chapter Two: From Out of Nowhere, Continued **

Elizabeth was jolted out of a sound sleep by a noise coming from down the hall. Sleepily, she climbed out of her bed to investigate its source. Shrugging on a housecoat, she grabbed a candle and lit it. As a precaution, she picked up an unused chamber pot and hefted it thoughtfully in her hand. It never hurt to be careful—she had learned that the night she'd been kidnapped by pirates. Not that that had turned out badly. But still.

The source of the noise seemed to be coming from the library. Although one of its French doors was slightly ajar, no light came from

within, and the sounds emerging were the disturbing ones of objects being tossed and thrown about carelessly with an occasional shattering noise as they were broken.

She knew if she hesitated, she'd loose her nerve. She carefully laid the candle on the floor, where its light could not be seen from inside the library, and briefly wished Will was there. Holding the chamber pot protectively before her in both hands, she slipped into the room.

One glance was all it took. Even in the darkness, Elizabeth could see books tossed everywhere, plus the shattered remains of the priceless artifacts that had once graced the library. The person responsible for the tossing and the shattering had dark, dirty hair and dirtier clothes.

Elizabeth's felt her nose wrinkle. _What a stench! _was her first thought, but before she'd finished thinking that thought, the intruder turned his face to where she stood half-hidden in the shadows. She saw the whites of his eyes widen, in surprise or alarm, she couldn't tell. He had seen her. She screamed, "Thief!" and swung the chamber pot.

It glanced off the intruder's shoulder, causing him no apparent harm. There was no response to her call that Elizabeth could hear, so she screamed again, and when the intruder regained his scattered senses, he pushed her aside to clear out the door.

Elizabeth stumbled. Her flailing hand lost its grip on the chamber pot and it clattered to the floor nosily with a _thunk. _"Help!" she screamed again. Regaining her balance, she took off after the intruder, who had escaped out the half-open library door.

And ran smack into him. His arms were held firmly by the butler and a footman and the expression on his face was one of such undisguised fury that Elizabeth had backed up several steps before she realized it. Annoyed with herself, she stopped her backward trek and faced the intruder with chin held up haughtily and met his eyes. He had been apprehended just several feet outside the library doors.

Her father appeared somewhat belatedly, still outfitted in a white undershirt and scrambling to get his wig on. Several maids and the cook appeared as well. Estrella, Elizabeth's personal maid, was one of them. When she saw the pirate, she emitted a piercing scream. The intruder half-twisted in the arms of his captors to give her such a glare that she immediately clamped her plump hands to her mouth and crumpled dramatically to the floor in a dead faint.

By the time Estrella had recovered, the intruder had been turned over to Norrington's marines, whom a scullery boy had fetched, and Will, whom one of the marines had fetched, had arrived on the scene. Norrington had come and gone, but had left several marines to guard the governor's mansion for the remainder of the night, and Will had volunteered himself for the job as well.

As soon as Elizabeth had finished fussing over Estrella, her father began fusing over Elizabeth. When she couldn't take it anymore, she escaped outside to join Will.

She closed the door behind her softly, but Will jumped at the small noise. "It's just me," she called, enjoying the feel of the warm breeze that caused her loose hair to fly around as if it had a life of its own.

They stood in silence for a few minutes that way, standing shoulder to shoulder. "Who was he?" Elizabeth asked finally, and felt Will stir uneasily beside her.

"Why do you ask?"

She studied his profile, silhouetted against a sky that was beginning to lighten. "Because I could tell that you knew him."

Will gave her a half-smile that caused her stomach to flutter unexpectedly. "I don't know his name, but I, um, ran into him earlier today." He paused. "He's a pirate."

Elizabeth gave him a look. "So not your normal, everyday intruder, then," she said with more than a trace of sarcasm. "You didn't tell me about an encounter with a pirate when I asked you about your day."

Will seemed embarrassed. "It wasn't exactly the high point. I sort of helped him fight a bunch of people that threw him out a window." He released a long, slow breath. "Then he knocked me out."

Elizabeth watched him closely. She asked her next question anyway, even though she figured she knew the answer perhaps better than Will. "Why?"

"Why did he knock me out?"

"Why did you help him?"

There was a long moment, in which neither one of them spoke. Elizabeth knew he wasn't ignoring her question, he was trying to find an answer; any answer.

"I thought he was like Jack," Will said finally, sounding pensive. Elizabeth nodded, even though he wasn't looking at her; he was looking out to the horizon, where the sun was busy emerging to preside over the day. That was the answer that Elizabeth had provided for herself. But she hadn't thought that Will would actually admit it. And the way she saw it, the pirate _was _like Jack, who might have knocked Will out, too, if it suited him. Will saw only in black and white; he couldn't seem to find a gray area, which was what had made it hard for him to accept that any pirate, including his father and Jack, could be a good man. Now the reverse was true—Will saw all pirates as being good—and now it got him into trouble.

It was Elizabeth's opinion that while Jack might be a good man deep down—deep, deep down—that didn't make him trustworthy. She could see how Jack's mind worked—she understood him, even thought she might not agree with him. But she was beginning to suspect that Will couldn't.

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Is it good? Is it bad? Should I quit my day job? Review and let me know!


	10. Chapter Three, Scene One

**RETURN TO THE BLACK PEARL**

From the looks of my reviews, it would appear that Starz Bakura has been sniffing the catnip again.

CAST OF THOUSANDS: You know, that's not right.

ME: Yeah. She should share.

I appologize for the shortness of this post (and all the previous ones), but it's just that they take so _long_ to write. At least I update fairly regularly!

* * *

**Chapter Three: Jack Attack**

Norrington strode across the battlements of Fort Charles. Pausing, he took a moment to glance at his fleet.

Or what was left of it, anyway.

No one had bothered to provide funds or a replacement for the _Interceptor_, the ship once optimistically believed by those under its protection to be the fastest ship in the Caribbean. That idea, like the ship itself, had gone up in flames.

A half-length behind Norrington's right shoulder, Gillette heeled like a well-schooled puppy, waiting patiently for its master to resume their walk. Norrington wondered again why he had made him second-in-command.

But he knew the answer. It was for the same reason that he had made the _Dauntless_ his flagship: simply, the lack of a better alternative.

Norrington snapped out of his eloquent reverie when Gillette coughed delicately but meaningfully behind him. "Ah, yes—where were we?" he asked wearily, noticing for the first time that the battlement upon which he stood on was the same that both Elizabeth Swann and Jack Sparrow had taken it in their heads to fall from.

Gillette seemed to swell slightly. In a voice thick with self-importance, he explained condescendingly to his commodore, "My duties as acting commodore during your absence."

Norrington said, "Yes, of course." He paused. He elaborated, "Well, try not to let certain pirates plunder any more vessels under our protection in waters _not five leagues from the harbor_." Beside him, Norrington felt Gillette wilt. "Yes. Yes, I believe that should suffice. Don't you, Lieutenant?"

Gillette said, "Yes, sir," meekly.

Norrington heard the distant voice of a watch call, "Sail ho!" He looked across the harbor and nearly bashed his head against the nearest battlement. He knew the ship sailing into the harbor. He had seen her several times before in his lifetime and had run across her many times in his nightmares.

The _Black Pearl_.

Followed closely by thick fog and another ship, one that Norrington didn't recognize. Both ships looked hostile, both to the other and the world at large. Beside him, Gillette appeared to be having heart palpitations. "Commodore, is that—" he sputtered.

Norrington was swiftly pulling the gold-plated spyglass that had been a gift to him from some dignitary or another and viewed the _Black Pearl_ through it. "Jack Sparrow," Norrington said calmly, or as calmly as he could make his strangled voice sound. "Well, well. What could we possibly be doing? One would have though that the phase 'return and be hanged' would have been sufficient incentive to stay away."

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C'mon, folks, you know the drill—read 'em and review 'em!


	11. Chapter Three, Scene Two

**RETURN TO THE BLACK PEARL**

I'm going to apologize for misspelling "apologize" in my last chapter. And I'm also going to apologize for not updating sooner. The reason why I haven't updated (not that y'all care, I'm sure) is because I've been hastily scribbling a _Lilo & Stitch _ficlet that has taken up all of my time.

But now I'm back, and now I'm 40% more free! because I don't own these characters and am making absolutely _no_ money off of them.

**

* * *

**

**Chapter Three: Jack Attack, Continued**

A cannon whistled from somewhere above his head, and Jack dropped to the deck of the _Black Pearl_. He was, quite frankly, furious. What did these people think they were doing, in trying to blow up his beloved ship? You'd think they wanted him dead. And what had he ever done to them, anyway? Jack belly-crawled forward to cover and posed this question to a harried-looking Gibbs. He had to shout to be heard above the noise of rifles and cannons and cursing.

Gibbs didn't look up from reloading his rifle. "Don't you remember?" he growled.

Jack did remember, as it turned out. All too well, actually. "Oh," he said, suddenly abashed. "That."

"Oh, that" included being directly responsible for the death of their captain, whom none of them had really liked anyway, but it was the point of the thing; getting them caught by the person most pirates tried to avoid: Commodore James Norrington; and reclaiming the ship that they so obviously considered their own. Not to mention the casual repossession of their ten-years worth of stash whist they were in jail. Which they had escaped from. Obviously.

The other ship, although in possession of a good many more cannons, ammunition, and men than the _Black Pearl_, would never be able to outrun her. But as Jack stood up and looked around, he noticed that there was nowhere to run to. The _Black Pearl_ had been successfully trapped between her attackers and Port Royal, a place where piracy and its executors were frowned upon—and, as Jack vividly recalled, hanged. There was no safe haven to escape to.

Not that Captain Jack Sparrow would run from a fight, anyway. Unless he really, really had to.

. . .

The by-now familiar sounds of cannon fire lured Elizabeth onto the crowded streets of Port Royal. She shaded her eyes against the harsh glare of the sun, reflected with a blinding intensity against the sparkling blue of the Caribbean water into her eyes. What she saw worried her: two ships, each deeply absorbed in an attempt to turn the other into driftwood...and one of them, at least, looked familiar.

Very familiar.

It _was_ familiar. Through new sails adorned her masts, the _Black Pearl _was so distinctly the _Black Pearl_ that Elizabeth would know her anywhere.

After all, how does one forget a ship that leaks fog and until somewhat recently contained a crew of bloodthirsty, just-plain-thirsty, undead yet unliving pirates?

However, it was definitely Jack's crew on the _Black Pearl_—Elizabeth spotted the bright feathers of Cotton's parrot. She recognized Gibbs, then Jack himself, shouting incomprehensible orders on deck.

A hand grabbed her shoulder and nearly shrieking, she spun around; but it was only Will, sweating from the effort of fighting the mob of spectators. He pointed up to the battlements of the fort. "Look."

Elizabeth glanced in that direction and immediately spotted Norrington and his second-in-command standing rooted to the spot of the same battlements that she and Jack had taken turns tumbling from. Although known for his hatred of piracy, he didn't seem all that eager to engage either set of pirates. Or, for that matter, do anything to stop the battle.

Will's hand suddenly tightened its grip on her shoulder, and he breathed Jack's name in a tone that caused Elizabeth to turn back to the battle just in time to watch, aghast and helpless, as Captain Jack Sparrow—

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CAST OF THOUSANDS: That was mean.

ME: [innocently] What?

CAST OF THOUSANDS: Cliffhangers are mean and depressing, and you should not resort to using them in order to garner more reviews.

ME: [shocked and horrified] I can't believe it! What sort of evil, sadistic person would try to pull something like that?

CAST OF THOUSANDS: You.

ME: Oh, yeah. Right.

Did my evil plot work? Will you review? What on earth has _happened_ to Captain Jack Sparrow? All these questions and more will be answered the next time I update!

(By the way, go R&R my new _Lilo & Stitch _fic "A Trog By Any Other Name.")


	12. Chapter Three, Scene Three

**RETURN TO THE BLACK PEARL**

Well, I figure I've tortured you guys enough. I've actually had this chapter written for a couple of days, but I just haven't had time to post it. Blame my school, not me.

On an interesting sidebar, the other day in my AP English class (which I love, by the way), we were required to pick a favorite word. Mine was "dastardly." I just love that word. It makes me so happy.

CAST OF THOUSANDS: What kind of freak gets really happy from a word? Oh, wait, remember who we're talking to.

ME: That was uncalled for.

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**Chapter Three: Jack Attack, Continued**

Norrington watched in astonishment as Captain Jack Sparrow, hanging on to the rigging of the _Black Pearl_ while attempting a balancing act on the side, lost his balance, then his grip, then his dignity when a bullet flew past—whether it connected with pirate flesh or not, Norrington couldn't tell—causing him to dive head-first into the azure water that appeared to swallow him whole. After a few moments, the ripples in the water smoothed out. To all intents and purposes, Captain Jack Sparrow was dead.

The effect of his passing was immediate and obvious. The _Black Pearl_'s continuing attempts to repel her attackers were half-hearted at best. Norrington chose at this time to break up the fight. At the _Dauntless'_s approach, the other pirate ship scattered. But the _Black Pearl_ made no effort to flee.

So Norrington found himself with a legendary pirate ship and her crew of unusually subdued pirates on his hands.

The _Black Pearl_'s crew worried him. They simply did not act like the pirates Norrington had dirtied his hands with previously. They seemed to care more about the death of their captain than they did the fact that they had been captured. Even his promises to hang every last one of them, soon, failed to rouse them. So Norrington was careful to give orders for a patrol to be sent to search for Sparrow out of their hearing.

"But Sparrow must be dead!" exclaimed a bewildered and incredulous Gillette.

"I assure you, Lieutenant, that he is not," Norrington said grimly. He hadn't believed Sparrow's death for a minute. It would have been too good to be true. Too easy, almost. It would have been the perfect way for all his troubles and vexes to disappear, so of course it hadn't happened. Life was never that good.

"No man could survive that," Gillette asserted.

_No man but Captain Jack Sparrow, that is,_ Norrington thought sardonically. And he was aware that at least two other people felt the same way.

A squad of marines accompanied him through the streets of Port Royal. He halted outside a building; a sign swaying gently in the wind proclaimed it BROWN'S SMITHY. He motioned to some marines, who compelled the barred door to open and fell behind Norrington. They marched in.

The only normal thing about the interior was the resigned-looking donkey, which stood calmly munching hay. Norrington briefly wondered at the absence of the large, grubby-looking man with liquor oozing from his very pores whose usual post was in a nearby chair, but then recalled that said man was comfortably detoxifying at the fort jail, blissfully unaware of the charges he would have to face upon his awakening.

Will Turner and Elizabeth Swann had been caught in the middle of a sentence, which began "We've _got_ to find Jack—" and most likely would have been finished with "before Norrington does."

His hunch had been right. He wished it hadn't. "Miss Swann," said Norrington formally. He didn't want to do this, but he felt he had no choice. "Mr. Turner. You are under arrest." At this, several marines quickly apprehended the stunned couple.

"For what crime, Commodore?" Elizabeth demanded hotly, regaining her voice almost immediately.

He sighed. He _really _didn't want to do this. "For plotting to aid and abet a known fugitive."

Elizabeth glared at him. The look said, "I thought you were above that." Norrington smiled briefly. "Don't worry. You'll only be held until Sparrow has been hanged." He gestured towards to door, and his captives were guided in that direction by the red-coated marines that inexplicably reminded him of barber poles.

As they exited, Norrington felt his shoulders slump uncontrollably.

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That dastardly Norrington! He says he won't let Will and Elizabeth out of jail (or, as Prof. Tolkien would call it, gaol) until you review.

CAST OF THOUSANDS: How dastardly.

ME: Wait 'til you see that dastardly moustache he's grown.


	13. Chapter Three, Scene Four

**RETURN TO THE BLACK PEARL**

Raberba girl, I heartily agree with you. AP British Literature is SO much better than AP US Literature.

CAST OF THOUSANDS: Those crazy British...

For the records, I don't own POTC nor the Cast of Thousands. Gore owns POTC and Otherhawk owns the Cast of Thousands. I merely toy with them for my own personal amusement. And yours, I hope.

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**Chapter Three, Scene Four **

With the _Black Pearl_'s crew occupying the jail, cells were scarce. Norrington thoughtfully picked out one far away from the pirates to hold Elizabeth and Will.

"It'll be all right," Will soothed her, even though she wasn't in need of soothing. "We'll be out soon."

Elizabeth repressed a snort. She _knew_ she'd be out soon, even if Will weren't. Her father was surely raising Cain as Will spoke.

She had no intention, of course, of informing him of that.

They had been there since midmorning. The darkness that poured through the barred window in her cell told Elizabeth that it was night, or close to it. "It's nearly dinnertime," she pointed out. "Do you think they'll remember to feed us?" she asked grumpily, although they had been provided with a lunch that she suspected was not the normal cuisine for prisoners.

As if on cue, she heard the sound of booted footfalls echoing in the hallway. Elizabeth fully expected to see a red uniformed man, bearing a rifle and dinner plate.

Elizabeth stared. It was Jack. Jack, incomprehensively attired in the uniform of a marine; Jack, with dirty strips of cloth bound around his upper right arm.

Jack, dangling a ring of keys on his finger.

This had to be a dream. Of course—she was hallucinating from the lack of food. She blinked, expecting the apparition to disappear.

But he didn't. When she opened her eyes, he was still there, tossing the keys from one hand to the other, grinning in a familiarly inane fashion. Waiting for a comment.

Elizabeth looked at Will, who looked surprised. Probably at the thought that Jack had managed to escape a certain death without his help. He scrambled up from the corner he'd been sitting in and pressed closely against the grating of the cell wall. "Jack?" he asked slowly.

"No," said her hallucination cheerfully. "I couldn't possibly be _Captain Jack Sparrow._ Do you not hear?" The gold teeth flashed at her, seeming to wink. "He's been captured. They should be bringing him in any moment now."

But Elizabeth was fairly sure it was he. "What are you _doing_ here?" She reconsidered. Then she said, "Get us out!" acknowledging Jack's ability to truthfully and completely answer that question. "Well, what are you waiting for? _Get us out!_"

"All right, all right," he said affably. He slid the key into the lock. He twisted it. He opened the door. He froze.

Well, who wouldn't, considering the rifles poking him firmly in the back?

"Freeze, Sparrow," suggested Norrington.

"I believe I've already done so," responded his captive indignantly.

"So you have," said Norrington. He gestured somewhat vaguely away from Elizabeth and Will's cell. "Drop the keys, and put your hands up in the air." Jack did so, regrettably.

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REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVI—

CAST OF THOUSANDS: The person responsible for the above spam has been sacked. You are now free to enjoy the rest of the story.


	14. Chapter Three, Scene Five

**RETURN TO THE BLACK PEARL**

I would like to thank all my reviews for reviewing, especially Raberba girl, for your insightful comments. And for the flattery, of course.

CAST OF THOUSANDS: Aren't you going to thank us?

ME: What for?

CAST OF THOUSANDS: Gracing your story with our presence, of course.

However, I would like to thank my muses: my gerbils, Squeaky and Pete, who provided me with the inspiration for this chapter. And all the other chapters, of course.

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**Chapter Three, Scene Five**

Jack was firmly escorted down the hall by several marines to a cell that looked familiar. And occupied. A dirty, seedy-looking pirate leaned against one wall; an intoxicated man dozed his way through a hangover against another.

Jack was tossed roughly inside. He picked himself gingerly, nursing bruises and his sore arm.

He stared at his cellmates. The drunken man slept blissfully on, oblivious to Jack's gaze, so he turned his attention to the other. After a few minutes of careful study, Jack was forced to acknowledge that he knew him from somewhere. "Have we met?" he asked cautiously.

"Yep," said his cellmate, spitting a stream of tobacco against the wall. Jack flinched away to avoid being hit. Then the memory clicked. This was one of the pirates who had tried to lure the key-guarding dog into trading in the keys for a mutton bone. "You ever get out, or are they just relocating you?" inquired Jack's cellmate.

"I got out," Jack bragged. "I got the dog to move. But that's not how I got out," he admitted.

"How, then?" said the other prisoner, spitting again.

"Leverage," Jack said mysteriously, then sighed. It looked to be a long night. "When's dinner?"

"Don't know," said the seedy-looking prisoner comfortably, settling back against his wall.

Jack sighed again.

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I apologize for the shortness of this chapter. I think my muses are broken. And you know, the best way to fix a broken muse IS TO REVIEW THEM!


	15. Chapter Three, Scene Six

**RETURN TO THE BLACK PEARL**

Well, I actually wrote and posted Chapter Three, Scene Six yesterday, but because of my ambivalent feelings about it, I eventually took it down that night. However, I had also written Chapter Three, Scene Seven, and since I deleted Chapter Three, Scene Six, Chapter Three, Scene Seven is now Chapter Three, Scene Six. Making any sense?

CAST OF THOUSANDS: Not yet, but the day is young.

I like this chapter MUCH better. Oh, and by the way, I was voted Best Tacky Outfit on Tacky Day at my school yesterday. I'm so proud!

**

* * *

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**Chapter Three: Jack Attack, Continued **

It was later rather than sooner when two marines appeared, one bearing dinner trays and a bundle of dirty, wadded-up clothes; the other bearing arms. Jack realized with some delight that he knew these two. They couldn't swim.

"Lovely to see you again," he exclaimed grandiosely, jumping to his feet and speeding to the cell door. "How do you like it?" he asked, gesturing at his uniform.

They stared at him. The one that had had reddish hair before it had been exchanged for one of those pasty-white wigs said cautiously, "I'm sorry; I don't understand, Mr. Sparrow."

Jack reconsidered. "Then again, perhaps red isn't my color after all. Now, if you'll be so kind as to return my clothes...?"

The larger one, hands full of Jack's clothes, reached out to pass them back to their wearer through the bars. Jack reached out to retrieve them, grabbing the marine's hands along with the clothes, and yanked him to the grate in a tight chokehold.

"What the...?" Jack's prisoner began, but he didn't finish this thought as he began gasping for breath.

"You!" Jack nodded to the other. "Drop that rifle and find the keys." He was obeyed instantly. "Now, open the door and let me out." The cell door was opened and Jack was let out. His seedy-looking cellmate chose this opportunity to free himself as well.

"My thanks, friend," he called as he vanished down the hall.

"You're welcome," Jack said. He bound and gagged his two prisoners and locked them in his cell with the drunken man. He made a show of pretending to swallow the key and saw them gulp several times.

Jack took the time to change back into his pirate clothes and skulked off back to where Elizabeth and Will were still confined. "What took you so long?" she asked irritably, as though she'd never once doubted his return.

He chose to ignore that question. "Come on," he said, opening the door. "Where's me crew?"

Jack's appearance caused the countenances of some of the faces of his crew to turn white. "Jack!" Gibbs exclaimed. "We thought you was dead."

"O ye of little faith," Jack reproved him, but Gibbs just looked confused.

Somehow, they slipped out of the jail without getting caught—a new record for Jack. He headed for the docks. He wanted his ship back.

Several marines were guarding the _Black Pearl_. They were handily knocked out and tied up by Anamaria and Marty. The crew dispersed themselves over the ship. Jack was the last to board.

Will asked him, "Where will you be going?"

Jack shrugged. "What difference does it make?"

At Will's hurt look, he relented a bit and said, "Tortuga, most likely. But that's not something to be spreading around, savvy?"

He turned to go. He heard Will clear his throat. Jack sighed and turned back to face him. "What is it, whelp?" he asked, a little too patiently.

Will said, almost hesitantly, "Jack, you know what Barbossa did to my father, right?"

The question caused Jack to rock back on his heels. "Aye," he said, not really sure where this line of questioning would be going and more than a little reluctant to find out.

Now Will _definitely_ hesitated. "Do you think he could still be alive?"

"What makes you ask that?" Jack said by way of stalling, his mind working frantically.

Will produced a well-worn letter from the inside of his vest. He handed it to Jack silently. Jack opened it. It was signed "Bill Turner" in handwriting that he immediately identified as Bootstrap's. He checked the date. Six months ago. Huh. "_That's_ interesting," he murmured. He folded it back up and returned it to Will.

Will looked annoyed. "Well, what are you going to do about it?"

"Nothing," he said succinctly.

Will looked ready to leap for Jack's throat. He shook the letter at Jack's face. "There is a chance that my father is alive, and you're going to do _nothing_?"

Jack whirled to face him. "First of all, he's your father, not mine, so that makes him _your_ responsibility, not mine. Second—there's nothing I _can_ do. You want to go head off on some wild goose chase, fine, but don't drag _me _into it."

He and Will stood there, glaring daggers, cutlasses, and all the weapons Will had ever forged until Elizabeth positioned herself between them and maneuvered Will away. "Let it go," she told him, and Jack noticed a particular expression on her face—relief, maybe? Interesting, that. "Let's go."

She dragged Will a few steps away from Jack, until Will's feet moved of their own violation. "Good luck, Jack," she called to him over her shoulder.

Jack watched them go, his insides churning with something other than indigestion. He touched his fingers to his hat slowly in a mock salute. "Back at you, luv."

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Thankfully, this is the end of Chapter Three, my friends. On to Chapter Four! where we'll see some Anamaria stuff, some Jack reflections, and a decided Plot Twist. Hehehe.


	16. Chapter Four, Scene One

**RETURN TO THE BLACK PEARL**

Hey hey hey, look who finally updated, with New and Exciting news! As per some of your oh-so-subtle hints, I have acquired a beta-reader.

CAST OF THOUSANDS: We're not sure how to respond to that just yet. Currently our reaction falls somewhere between "Thank goodness" and "Who would be crazy enough to take her on?"

ME: That would be my Crazy Cousin Adam, who has very graciously volunteered (was blackmailed into, same thing) betaing this fic and my _Star Wars: Wraith Squadron_ story "Kettch Me If You Can." So you can no longer blame me for any grammatical, punctuational, or otherwise nasty mistakes you catch in this story. Now you can yell at him, not me! Yay!

CRAZY COUSIN ADAM: Wait...yelling? I'm not sure I signed on for this.

CAST OF THOUSANDS: Sucker.

So anyway, thanks to Crazy Cousin Adam and all you loyal reviews. Sorry for the long wait, but it should move a little faster than it has been.

* * *

**Chapter Four: Oceans of Trouble**

Jack stood at the bow of the _Black Pearl_, keeping his beloved but battered ship on a course for Tortuga. She needed repairs, and Tortuga was the obvious place for them. For one thing, it was a distance easily attainable even in the _Black Pearl_'s current condition. For another, Jack had connections there and knew where to get the _Black Pearl_ fixed up for a price that would not cause her owner's heart to stop or his pocketbook to cringe. And the best reason of all was the amenities there to provide distraction for the _Black Pearl_'s crew while they waited for the repairs—namely, rum.

Jack needed a distraction in the worst way. He didn't want to think about Will's revelation, or the look on Elizabeth's face, or...any of that. But like a tongue probing a sore tooth, his mind kept returning to it. And instead of a sore tooth, Jack found himself facing a root canal.

Why would the news of Bootstrap's return cause him to feel this way? If anything, he should be happy—happy that a good man hadn't died happy that the father of another good man hadn't died.

It wasn't that Jack would rather Bootstrap be dead. Something else, then. The thought uppermost in Jack's mind was, "_Am I sure it's really him?"_ He had recognized the signature on the letter. "Bill Turner." Was that right? If Bootstrap had signed his name as Bill and not Bootstrap, that must mean that the person he was writing to didn't know he was a pirate. Or was he even a pirate anymore?

That lead him to another question, which was why hadn't Jack known he was alive.To be alive, Bootstrap must have escaped from his underwater tomb at least more than a year ago. But Jack had not heard anything about this, and Jack usually knew everything that was going on. He heard things; low voices in dark taverns, whispers onboard his ship. But he had heard nothing about this. Not from Bootstrap. Not from anybody.

He hadn't heard from Bootstrap. Was that what bothered him? A small part of it, perhaps, was the sense of betrayal Jack felt when he thought about Bootstrap escaping and not bothering to tell him or contact him. _But that could be for any number of reasons,_ something whispered in his ear, an annoying voice that caused Jack to shake his head in irritation. _He was probably lying low, trying to hide from Barbossa and the former crew of the Black Pearl. After all, he didn't want Barbossa and the rest to be uncursed. _

_There was another reason that had occurred to Jack as well; one he didn't like to dwell on, but there it was: the thought that Bootstrap would not want to see Jack because of his role in the mutiny. Bootstrap might not have been a part of it, but he went along with it nevertheless._

Bootstrap had escaped, and had been free for at least a year, possibly up to eleven years, if he had escaped very soon after being tossed overboard.

And eventually, Jack would run into him.

Aha, yes, that was it. _That_ was what bothered him the most. Eventually, they would meet. Because it wasn't just a funny ol' world, as Jack had discovered, it was a small one, too. Bootstrap could be on a ship Jack attacked. He could be the man sitting next to him at a bar on Tortuga. Hell, if Will's search for his father was successful, Jack could run into him on Port Royal. Not that Jack was planning to return to Port Royal for a good, long time. Maybe after that bloody commodore died. If Jack lived that long.

But they would meet, Jack was sure of it. And what would he say? Hi, thanks for finally deciding you were wrong about the whole mutiny thing, no hard feelings, mate, the drink's on me?

So that was it. That explained the queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach; that explained why he had refused to help Will search for his father. Because that was what Will had wanted him to do, Jack knew. Jump at the chance of a lifetime—the chance to find the man who had not said a word as Jack had been made to walk the plank of his own ship, to an island where there was no conceivable means of escape, though escape Jack had.

It was dark. It was still night. Jack could see nothing but fog surrounding them. Not the light, low clouds that seemed to follow the _Black Pearl_ wherever she went, but a dense fog. If, when morning came and no ships belonging to any commodores of the Royal Navy were spotted behind them, Jack would be able to breathe a sigh of relief, but not one noticeable to anyone else, and declare that by now, Norrington would never catch up and they were home free.

It was right about now, Jack was sure, that things would start to go wrong.

* * *

Oh, yes, and we're on Chapter Four now.

CRAZY COUSIN ADAM: Does this mean I have to make guest appearances in your Author's Notes now?

CAST OF THOUSANDS: Yes, but don't worry. She'll only ruin one or two of your reputations. Or three, or four...

CRAZY COUSIN ADAM: That makes me feel SO much better.

ME: Oh, and you get to do it today.

CRAZY COUSIN ADAM: Do I have to?

CAST OF THOUSANDS: Yes, because we REALLY don't want to.

CRAZY COUSIN ADAM: Sigh. Okay. Review this fic. Happy?

ME: Ecstatic.


	17. Chapter Four, the Rest of It

**RETURN TO THE BLACK PEARL**

I'mmmm baaaaaaaack! Er, sorry for the long wait. I didn't abandon this story, nor have I gotten Writer's Block (knock on wood). See, in this post you're actually getting ALL of Chapter Four. ALL of it. Every single last word. Every bit of punctuation. Yep, that's right.

CAST OF THOUSANDS: Could you make it any more clearer?

ME: ALL of it.

CAST OF THOUSANDS: That's right, freak.

There WILL be another wait for Chapter Five, HOWEVER, when it is posted, you will also get ALL of it. ALL of it.

CAST OF THOUSANDS: That's enough.

I have next week off from school (HALLELUJAH!), so Chapter Five should be up by October 10th. And you can thank the length of this chapter (and the lack of grammar mistakes) to Crazy Cousin Adam, who betaed it.

* * *

**Chapter Four: Oceans of Trouble, the Rest of It**

Anamaria glanced sharply behind her as she stepped into her cabin and closed the door. After making absolutely sure she was alone, she unlocked the large sea chest at the foot of her bunk, where she kept her few articles of clothing and possessions.

She hesitated, looking down into the depths of the chest. This would be her first chance to look at the object she had uncovered while plundering the _Duty Free_. And yet...she did not want to touch it. She shuddered with an almost revulsion at the thought of feeling it in her hands again, but she _did_ want to look at it...so she pushed aside the ragged, unwashed clothing covering it up until she saw it.

It looked just as it had when she'd seen it last. Large and round and shiny—the small light in Anamaria's cabin, a candle flickering feebly at her feet, fell on it in a way that caused it to almost glitter. She reached out for it, and her hands stopped halfway there, but she shook her head at her own foolishness and picked it up.

She knew what it was, now. She had seen pearls before, but never colored black, and never this large. Anamaria felt almost giddy at the thought of how much money this black pearl could bring her. It was worth enough for her to get another boat, she thought wryly, a better one.

She didn't know how long she sat there, contemplating the black pearl and what it could bring her, as the candle's flame sank lower and lower. It was almost as though the black pearl sucked all the light from the room hungrily until there was none left; then the candle sputtered and went out.

The sudden absence of light startled her, causing her to drop the pearl. It rolled along the floor a few feet away. Anamaria reached to retrieve it, and, as she did, she could have sworn she saw a flickering inside. She picked it up carefully, mindful of its worth, which was now more important than the black pearl itself. She placed it back carefully into the chest.

She realized then that her head was cocked, as if she were listening for something, but for what, she couldn't tell. Anamaria shook her head again at that, and moved to position the clothing back around the pearl and then to close the chest.

She gave the pearl one last look, though, her eyes skittering over the clouded surface that made it seem as though it was filled with an inner fog. The glossy exterior suddenly seemed to crack, and Anamaria thought she saw something, maybe someone peeking out at her from under it. Ghostly dark faces seemed to swirl over the surface of the pearl, grinning and staring almost malevolently up at her; then they stilled and the black pearl was exactly what it had been before.

This so shook Anamaria that she slammed the lid down with a _bang_ and locked the sea chest with trembling fingers. She fled from the chest and out of her cabin, but as she made her rushed exit, she could almost hear many soft voices whispering, "Let us out."

It was a promise, not a plea.

...

Norrington decided to check upon Sparrow and his crew himself. It was late, but he couldn't sleep; a nagging feeling kept telling him that something was going horribly wrong. To humor the voice, he strode along the dark allies between the cells that were lit only by torches evenly planted some space apart.

It was quiet--too quiet. He'd been expecting to hear the usual noises in a prison at night: the sound of prisoners attempting to pick their locks, whistling and trying to lure the key-guarding dog, escape plans whispered loudly from cell to cell, digging noises from where men attempted to dig their way out along with curses as they hit rocks, the rasping noise created when one tries to saw the barred windows open.

He heard none of these, and it worried him. And it wasn't long before he knew the reason why.

He halted outside the cell where two of his marines lay, bound and gagged, inside the cell that had previously been occupied by Sparrow, the pirate who had ransacked the governor's mansions, and Mr. Brown. Mr. Brown occupied the cell still, and had made no noticeable movements.

"What do you have to say for yourselves?" Norrington asked his marines in frustrated anger.

"Manamana," said one sadly.

"Dunflotz," the other agreed.

Upon further investigation, it was discovered that the _Black Pearl_ and her crew were also missing, as were Will Turner and Elizabeth Swann. The last two, however, were found creeping back from where the _Black Pearl_ had formerly been docked. Norrington didn't feel up to dealing with them, so he released them from custody.

_At least_, he thought, _no one bothered to commandeer the _Duty FreeThat was the one thought that didn't cause him to wince. The _Duty Free_ was scheduled to set sail for England the next day. The original plan had been to load the ship at dawn, hang Sparrow by midmorning, and set sail with the morning tide.

With the exception of a hanging, the day went as planned. The _Duty Free_ was loaded with only minor difficulties and the passengers boarded with relatively little squabbling. Norrington noticed that both Will and Elizabeth had slight dark rings around their eyes. Will looked torn between emotions; he couldn't seem to be able to decide between excitement and apprehension. Elizabeth, on the other hand, had settled firmly for a look of grim resignation, one that matched what Norrington himself was feeling. He had a feeling that things would not go as expected.

He was right.

By nightfall, it was obvious that the _Duty Free_ was in trouble. She had sailed straight into a patch of ferociously rough weather, one that looked to take her apart. Furious waves pounded her sides, causing the ship to toss and turn like an insomniac.

Will and Elizabeth had been banished to the hold with the other passengers. They had not appreciated this nicety, protesting loudly that their experiences of the previous year made them more than capable of working on the deck.

Norrington refused to concern himself with them at the moment, however. He had more important things to fret about. Number One on his Worry List was the inescapable fact that the _Duty Free_ was being pushed off of her course by the storm at an alarming degree. He was uncomfortably aware that they were no longer headed towards England, but where they _were_ headed, he had no idea. They were, he thought, headed in the opposite direction. But he couldn't be sure. The blindingly thick rain coupled with the dark of the night did a wonderful job of making it impossible to divulge their location.

Then a huge, white-crested wave drew back, like a cobra's head rearing back to strike, and Norrington forgot, for the moment, his location concerns.

...

A frighteningly loud _crack_ caused Elizabeth and Will to look up at each other in concern.

"What was that?" breathed Will in dismay. In his admittedly limited experience at sea, he had learned that sounds such as that were seldom beneficial.

Elizabeth looked stricken. "The mast!" she gasped, and leapt to her feet in a race to the deck.

Will was right behind her when he realized that his feet were sinking in a steadily growing puddle of water. He pushed past Elizabeth and clamored out of the hold, and the sight on the deck caused his breath to catch in his throat. All that was left of the mast was the splintered wood scatted about the deck. Will shook off his inertia in order to find Norrington.

"There's a leak in the hold!" Will bellowed in Norrington's ear. Lightning streaked across the black sky and cold rain fell into his eyes. He mopped his face off with his sleeve and found that the fabric was as wet as his face, but he didn't care.

_Crack!_ Another surge of lightning lit up the night, and then something slammed into the back of Will's head. He heard a sharp ringing in his ears and, vaguely recalling being knocked out with an empty bottle of rum, Will slipped into a cold gray unconscious.

...

He woke up disoriented.

"Where am I?" he murmured dizzily. He was wet. And cold. And he hurt, all over his body but the pain seemed to be centered at the back of his head. He dimly remembered waking up this way a long time ago, opening his water-logged eyes to the vision of Elizabeth's twelve-year-old face.

_Elizabeth_. Thinking her name brought him to his senses faster than a slap on the face would have. Will focused on his surroundings and nearly yelped in surprise.

"Oh, you're awake," he heard a voice say, and instead of Elizabeth, his eyes found Norrington's face.

"Where's Elizabeth?" demanded Will, sitting up straight in the middle of a longboat.

"Relax," Norrington said mildly. "She's right behind you."

Will turned, and found, to his great relief, Elizabeth, curled up against the sides of the boat, looking damp and ragged and lying there asleep.

The three of them occupied a longboat that had, Will recalled, at one time been attached to the _Duty Free_. The _Duty Free_, however, was nowhere in sight. Will did notice several other longboats like the one in which he was situated floating serenely on the tropical blue water of the Caribbean.

Wait. Will blinked. The Caribbean? That couldn't be right. The _Duty Free_ had been headed towards England by way of the Atlantic Ocean. The Atlantic Ocean, Will remembered, was not this clear turquoise color. It was gray and cold and stormy—much like the way he felt at the moment.

"What _happened_?" asked Will, appalled.

Norrington looked up. "Well, for starters, you were knocked out."

Will gingerly felt the back of his head. "Got that."

Norrington continued grimly, "The _Duty Free_ was blown off course before it sank."

Will couldn't believe his ears. "It sank?" he murmured. Well, that would explain why he didn't see it anywhere. "Survivors?" Will asked quietly.

Norrington suddenly looked old, as if he'd aged a hundred years in the moments it had taken for Will to ask that question. Old, and very, very tired. The look on his face reminded Will faintly of Jack, when Will had said, "You knew my father."

"Twelve," Norrington said just as quietly.

Will shook his head mentally. Twelve people survived, out of the almost a hundred that had once populated the ship. He was selfishly glad that he and Elizabeth were among them. "So, do you have any idea where we are?" he asked.

Norrington's eyes unfocused to look somewhere on the other side of Will's head "Actually, I do," he said quietly. Will twisted around for a peek of his own, and he was shocked into silence for several minutes by the sight of familiar black sails on a ship that was pulling into sight on the horizon.

...

"Ship ho," warned Marty from the crow's nest of the _Black Pearl_, and Jack bit back a curse that would have done no one any good, but would have made him feel a lot better.

Jack glanced in the direction in which Marty was pointing. Three or four longboats, right smack-dab in the _Black Pearl_'s way to Tortuga. "Well, stay on course," he said, his curiosity piqued.

The _Black Pearl_ limped ever closer to the longboats. It wasn't until they were almost upon them that Jack could make out individuals. When he did, he nearly fell off his ship in shock. After the shock, however, came a huge amusement.

"Get them on board," Jack told his crew. It didn't take long for the slightly soggy people had clamored aboard the _Black Pearl_. Three of them Jack knew rather well. "Commodore! So pleasant to see you again, and under such lovely circumstances, too."

Norrington shot him a sour look. Probably wondering why, out of all possible rescuers, he had to be saved by Jack Sparrow, Jack decided.

"Jack!" said Elizabeth, looking confused. "How did you know where we were?"

"I didn't, luv," Jack told her. "It just so happens that you were on my way to Tortuga."

"Tortuga?" said Norrington, looking shocked—and sun burnt. It provided an interesting contrast with the powered-white wig that was his constant companion even now. "But we were headed towards England!"

Jack gave him a pitying look. "I'd say you got lost."

Norrington flushed. "We were knocked off course by a storm."

_So what now?_ Jack thought. What exactly should he do with his sometime enemy, the man who, on occasion, seemed to really want him dead? The last time Jack had enjoyed Norrington's company, the commodore had attempted to hang him...again.

But even though Jack knew Norrington would have had him killed in an instant, he just couldn't bring himself to return the favor. If he had wanted him to die, he would have left him stranded on the longboat.

He wouldn't kill him, Jack decided. He had a better plan in mind; one that took advantage of what Norrington was probably thinking he was going to do to him.

Norrington looked Jack steadily in the eye. Perhaps trying to read his thoughts. Jack stared back, giving him an evaluative look that he knew to be particularly disconcerting. "Tell you what I'll do," Jack said at last, addressing Norrington. "I'll take you and—" he gestured at the damp people recently arrived from the longboats, pointedly ignoring Will and Elizabeth, "—your people to Tortuga with us. From there, you should be able to acquire a ride back to Port Royal."

Norrington winced slightly at the name of the largest remaining pirate's nest in the Caribbean, but he nodded. "Sounds reasonable," he said, looking faintly relieved. Most likely he had been worried that Jack would decide to go through with some barbaric pirate custom and make him walk the plank or something.

"No!" protested Will. "Our destination is England. If we have to go all the way back to Port Royal, it may be to late to find my—"

"No." Jack cut him off before he could finish uttering that sentence. It would no doubt spook the crew considerably if they learned that a man they had thought dead for a good ten years or so had suddenly and mysteriously turned up alive.

He eyed Elizabeth with some interest. The direction Will's last sentence had taken had caused her to flinch. "Absolutely not. As anyone with eyes can see—if they looked—the _Black Pearl_ is not condition to head out on a voyage that her crew has no business being on anyway." That said, he turned and walked away to the relative safety of his cabin.

But even with his back towards Will, Jack could feel him lose it. He heard Will's footsteps following him to the doorway of his cabin. "Why?" demanded Will, moving to block Jack's escape "Why won't you help me find my father?" He hissed in an angry undertone, _"I thought he was your friend."_

Jack felt his own temper rising. A better question would be why the whelp wouldn't take "no" for an answer. He regarded Will wearily, searching for the explanation Will craved, one that wouldn't be the truth, whatever that was. Will couldn't know the truth. Wavering, he tried to look away from Will's soul-searching gaze, one he must have learned from Elizabeth; acutely aware of an audience's avid interest. Most of them had no idea what they were fighting about, but this in no way served to dampen their curiosity.

Jack made a final, tired wave with his hands. "No," he said simply. The truth was far too embarrassing, and he couldn't think of an appropriate lie. Not one Will would buy, anyway. Will would just have to accept a "no."

...

"What's wrong?" Will asked of Elizabeth once they were alone in the cabin Jack had provided for her. Preoccupied as he might be, it had not escaped his notice that she seemed a bit—oh, he didn't know—upset about something.

Elizabeth just shook her head. "Nothing." She pressed her lips tighter tightly. "Nothing _you'd_ want to hear," she added tightly.

"It is _not_ nothing," Will pursued. "You've been acting strangely ever since we were rescued by Jack."

Elizabeth looked like he had slapped her. "That's not true," she said quietly.

"Yes, it is," said Will, growing annoyed despite himself. "Please tell me what it is."

The familiar look of muted pain stole over Elizabeth's face again—_when had it become familiar?_ Will wondered suddenly.

"I don't believe you," Elizabeth said fiercely, turning away from him and applying herself vigorously with a broom to the dusty floors of the cabin.

"What?" demanded Will.

"You haven't noticed much of anything lately, have you?" she asked bitterly.

"Noticed _what_?" asked Will again, now completely exasperated with her.

"Me!" Elizabeth exploded all at once. "You look right through me," she said so quietly that Will almost didn't hear her, "like I'm not even here. You haven't seen me since the day you found that—that bloody letter!"

Will brought his fist down hard on a nearby table. "That's not true!"

"Yes, it is," retorted Elizabeth. "As a matter of fact, you don't notice _anything_ anymore. All you think about is finding your father."

"Is that so wrong?" Will challenged her. "_You_ didn't seem to have a problem with me finding people when I rescued you."

"Your father doesn't need to be rescued," she scoffed. "And even if he did, what makes you think that he'd want _you_ to be the one to find him? As I recall, he turned pirate just to get away from you and your mother. So why would he want to see you now? After all, you _did_ end up killing him."

Her words reverberated in the air for several long minutes after they had been spoken, and they both were still, Will stunned; Elizabeth's expression unreadable. Then Elizabeth threw down her broom and walked out the door.

Will didn't follow her.

* * *

Wow, that was LONG.

CAST OF THOUSANDS: Oh, stop bragging.

ME: It's nine pages on Word.

CAST OF THOUSANDS: That's very nice. Shut up.

ME: Just let me ask the readers to review, okay?

CAST OF THOUSANDS: WHAT readers?

ME: Oh, no, not THIS again...


	18. An Interlude

**RETURN TO THE BLACK PEARL**

I'm sorry.

I'm really really really really really REALLY sorry.

CAST OF THOUSANDS: What have you done this time?!

ME: Due to circumstances beyond my control, I am unable to post Chapter Five today, even though I promised I would. runs for cover

CAST OF THOUSANDS: What's your excuse THIS time?

ME: It's not an excuse! Okay. So I had Chapter Five pretty much done and everything, even all typed up and ready to send to my beloved beta reader, Crazy Cousin Adam. I was rereading it to check for the most obvious of my errors when it hit me.

I HATED this chapter.

It stunk. It was awful. Everyone was OOC and it was the worst thing I've ever written.

So I trashed it.

Meaning I had to start ALL OVER AGAIN.

But it's okay. I've finished writing most of it and am currently typing up to send to Crazy Cousin Adam. Because I haven't been near a computer for the past four days, due to a last-minute trip to the Georgia National Fair. SEE?!?! Circumstances were beyond my control!!!!!!!

Anyway, I wanted to make sure those of you who bothered to check in would have SOMETHING to read, so I have compiled a list of things you'd never head in POTC for y'all to read. Enjoy. Consider this an interlude.

* * *

****

**Interlude **

WILL (to JACK): You knew my father.

JACK: No..._I_ am your father.

...

WILL: Oh, look! There's a sword in Jack's chest! He must be dead!

JACK: I'm only mostly dead. If I were completely dead, there'd be only one thing to do.

WILL: What's that?

JACK: Go through my pockets and look for loose change.

...

WILL: Does this hat make me look fat?

...

JACK (to BARBOSSA): What we have here is a failure to communicate.

...

BARBOSSA: I'm here to do two things: kick (beep) and eat apples. And I'm all out of apples.

...

In the _Black Pearl:_

Ping ping ping

ELIZABETH: What was that?

WILL: Must be Jack's marbles rolling around in the brig.

...

BARBOSSA: We are the pirates who say...Nee!

...

NORRINGTON: Why can't we all just get along?

* * *

Again, I apologize. Chapter Five should be up shortly. Like sometime this week.

CAST OF THOUSANDS: But she's not making any promises.

ME: Hush! And since this really isn't a chapter, you don't have to review. But you can if you really want to.


	19. Chapter Five, the Majority of It

**RETURN TO THE BLACK PEARL**

I have a secret: this isn't all of Chapter Five.

CAST OF THOUSANDS: You lie.

ME: All the time. But not now. There's a short Anamaria scene that's supposed to be at the end of this, but because of time constraints, I am unable to post it today.

CAST OF THOUSANDS: Eh, don't be sad. You're not missing much.

thisisabreakthisisabreakthisisabreakthisisabreakthisisabreakthisisabreak

**Chapter Five: A Wretched Hive of Scum and Villainy, The Majority of It**

Jack Sparrow hung onto the _Black Pearl_ with all his might in an attempt to keep his ship on course. Tortuga was in sight, but just barely, but Jack had discovered that if he loosened his grip even just a bit, the _Black Pearl_ would immediately begin veering in another direction, one that unnerved him quite a bit, although he couldn't say why.

Black clouds hung low in the sky and the sun shone with a greenish cast that caused the sea to look sick and alien. Rough, noisy waves bumped the _Black Pearl_ around on the water, tossing her as though she was a small child being thrown up in the air by a favorite uncle.

"Somethin' wrong, Cap'n?" hollered Gibbs from where he was occupied across the deck, apparently noticing Jack's struggle with his ship.

"Blasted ship won't stay on course," Jack gritted out through tightly clenched teeth. He braced himself against the wheel so that it wouldn't move, then with one hand, he reached inside a coat pocket and pulled from it his compass. He clicked it open and glanced down at its face to check his bearings, then looked away, feeling slightly sick. Instead of North, this compass pointed to an island that cannot be found, except by someone who already knows where it is. This was the direction the _Black Pearl_ wanted to travel.

_Me ship is haunted_, thought Jack, but surprisingly enough, the thought didn't frighten him. There wasn't much that could frighten Captain Jack Sparrow, and ghostly happenings on his beloved ship certainly weren't among them.

Actually, what frightened Captain Jack Sparrow the most was himself.

Jack put the compass away and placed his hand back on the wheel. Something wasn't right. No, it was more than that, Jack decided; something wasn't just not right, something was wrong, something was very, very wrong.

He had a feeling that it would be the struggle of his life to dock the _Black Pearl_ in Tortuga's harbor.

He felt someone come to stand next to him. It was Norrington, eyeing Jack's position at the wheel rather wistfully. _Once a captain, always a captain,_ Jack thought wryly. He could tell that the commodore was itching to seize command of the ship and was burning with a poorly concealed frustration at the circumstances that prevented him from doing so.

Jack could sympathize. He knew the feeling well.

Norrington nodded at the approaching shore. "Is that our destination?" he inquired stiffly.

"Aye," said Jack, rocking back on his heels. "That would be Tortuga. You'll never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy."

He shot Norrington a sly look. "Ye'd best be careful, mate. You might enjoy it."

Norrington looked away and sniffed. "I highly doubt it."

"That's what they all say," Jack informed him cheerfully.

From behind them, a door slammed loudly, and half the men on deck jumped, Norrington included. Jack thought that being on a ship full of the people one had sworn to remove from the face of the earth would make anyone nervous.

Two people emerged, shouting loudly—very loudly—and bring whatever pleasant discussion they were having to the deck.

"_IF YOU THOUGHT THIS WAS SO FOOLISH, THEN WHY BOTHER COMING?_" roared Will's voice.

"_I CAME TO SUPPORT YOU,_" a voice recognizable as Elizabeth's only in that it was female declared hotly. "_BUT I SUPPOSE YOU'RE RIGHT. I SHOULDN'T HAVE BOTHERED, SINCE IT'S OBVIOUS THAT YOU'D RATHER NOT HAVE ME TAGGING ALONG."_

Tensions between the whelp and his strumpet had become increasingly strained over the short time they had been onboard the _Black Pearl_. Jack had noticed this, as he did everything, and he had an idea what they were fighting about, although from the looks of the faces around him he suspected that he was the only one besides Will and Elizabeth who did.

Norrington, along with most of the crew, stared at the couple as they hurled vicious remarks back and forth, seemingly oblivious to their audience.

Jack leaned over Norrington's shoulder. "Young love," he said casually. "Isn't it wonderful?"

?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

Norrington wasn't sure what was worse, pirates onboard a pirate ship or pirates in a pirate town. However, his nose had conceded that both versions of pirates were equally disgusting.

"Ready to go, mate?" Jack asked.

Norrington looked askance at the pirate. "I utterly refuse to be seen _anywhere_ in this filthy nest with you," he informed Jack.

"Of course ye will," Jack said confidently. "Who knows his way around Tortuga better than Captain Jack Sparrow?"

The man did have a point there. Norrington wouldn't have expected anything less of him.

Jack leaned in to say, "And would know where to find the best ship for hire for the best price better than Captain Jack Sparrow, savvy?"

The pirate glanced around his ship. Norrington followed his gaze and noticed for the first time that the _Black Pearl_ was in a definite need of repairs, suffering from injuries that no doubt occurred in the battle with the formerly cursed pirates. "In case ye haven't noticed, I'll be on a similar errand meself," he continued. "This lass needs some tender loving care."

Norrington sighed. It didn't look as though he had any choice in the matter. "All right, then," he said resignedly. "Let's go."

Jack just looked at him. "Like that?" He looked pointedly at Norrington's uniform, that, while a bit ragged and worn from the misadventure with the _Duty Free_, was still the uniform of a Commodore of the Royal Navy, who had sworn to remove all pirates from the face of the earth. Norrington decided glumly that he would start with the pirate in front of him first.

"What's wrong with my uniform?" he demanded.

"Do ye think that any self-respecting pirate is going to agree to take you to Port Royal, knowing all the while who you are?" Jack said reasonably.

"I don't have anything else to wear," Norrington said at last.

Jack raised a finger. "Not a problem."

A few minutes later, Norrington took a look at himself and was horrified. "I will _not_ allow myself to be seen in public in this ridiculous attire," he snapped.

His wig, hat, and heavily decorated frock coat had all been removed. They had been replaced with a simple shirt and vest that, to Norrington, felt as alien and foreign as the dress of a Chinaman. Without the tangible symbols of his military career, Norrington almost hadn't recognized himself. He felt vaguely discomfited at this thought.

"I think it looks much better," Jack said.

"You would," said Norrington, feeling unnerved.

"It makes you look so...natural," Jack offered. "In any case, you won't be recognized."

For the next couple of hours, Norrington was introduced to the sights and sounds of Tortuga while attempting to secure a way to return to Port Royal for himself and the remainder of the _Duty Free_'s passengers.

And even though Norrington wasn't playing the role of a commodore, it seemed that it worked against him anyway. No pirate, smuggler, or mercenary he approached would agree to sail their ship anywhere in the vicinity of Port Royal, and most wondered sarcastically at him for suggesting such a venture. They explained to an increasingly annoyed Norrington that there was no way they'd risk their lives, their ships, and their freedom to come so close to the known whereabouts of "that bloody commodore." Not for a price Norrington could afford, anyway.

"Bloody pirates," he snarled to Jack, who was leaning comfortably against the side of a ramshackle building, leisurely drinking a tankard of an obnoxious-smelling, toxic-looking drink that was no doubt rum. Norrington had no idea where he'd gotten it.

"Can you blame them?" suggested Jack.

Norrington really couldn't, but that was outside the point.

Jack draped an annoying companionable arm around his shoulders, one that Norrington shrugged off.

Jack made an expansive gesture. "Guess you're stuck with us, mate." He didn't sound enthused by the idea.

Norrington had to struggle to conceal a shudder.

"Ah _ha!_"

He was suddenly pushed aside by an angry-looking woman whose age was undistinguishable due to the excessive amounts of glamour on her face. She marched straight up to Jack and stood glaring at him with her hands on her hips. Jack gave her a blank look that gradually turned into one of dawning apprehension.

"Remember me?" she asked, and slapped him.

Jack spun around and dropped to his knees, his hand tentatively caressing the red imprint that her hand left on his cheek. He peered blurrily up at the woman whose hand marched the mark on his face. He paused, and a struggle appeared to take place across his countenance. "Constance?" he said finally.

_WHACK! _She slapped him again. "Victoria," she snapped, and stalked away haughtily.

"I think you deserved that," Norrington remarked dryly.

Jack shook his head to clear it. "I may have done her wrong," he admitted rather sheepishly.

Norrington snorted. "How many times?"

Jack rose unsteadily to his feet. "One too many."

?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

Tortuga hadn't changed much since the last time her profilious bouquet had assaulted Will's olfactory senses. The taverns were as raucous, the tankards were as grimy, and the women were as...plentiful...as ever.

Will sank into a stool at the bar of the Faithful Bride, the irony of which, if there was any, was not lost on him. The bartender slammed a tankard in front of him without even a glance in Will's direction.

Will stared at it moodily. It didn't look all that clean, and it was filled to the brim with a frothy dark liquid that would have perhaps looked more at home in a witches' cauldron.

He had come in here to think, but he realized now that thinking was the absolute last thing he wanted to do. He was sick of thinking. Ever since The Letter—that was how he's started to think of the day that he learned his father was alive—he had done nothing but think: wonder if his father knew where Will was, reflect on what Bootstrap might be doing, question Jack's mental prowess when he had refused to have anything to do with Will's search, question his own after he had foolishly helped the other pirate, wonder what had gone so suddenly, utterly wrong between him and Elizabeth.

He wondered how the rim of the tankard had found its way to his lips.

With a start, he realized that his hand was clenched tightly around the handle, and the tankard was at his mouth, and that there was a burning sensation as the cold liquid scorched his throat, sliding into his belly, creating a warm glow that resided there.

_What am I _doing? he thought wildly, but then it turned out that he didn't care what he thought, because the tankard was at his lips again and the warmth in his stomach was growing.

The tankard was empty before he knew it.

"What are ye doing?" demanded a familiar voice, and Will looked up drunkenly to see several Jacks standing next to him, all giving him a confounded look.

Will raised his tankard in an inebriated toast to the Jacks and said blurrily, "Drowning my sorrows."

The Jacks consolidated into one, who sighed and collapsed on the stool next to him, shooing away a goat that had inexplicably wandered onto the bar. "Drownin' your sorrows, eh?" Jack sighed. "You're too young to have any sorrows to down." He signaled the bartender, gesticulating wildly with an arm. "I, on the other hand, have plenty of sorrows to drown. I'd better get a head start." The bartender deposited a tankard of rum into Jack's expectant hand.

Will eyed Jack's much larger drink with interest. "What's that?" he asked curiously.

Jack took a long swig. "This, my friend, is a pint," he informed Will.

Will's eyes kindled. "They come in pints? I'm getting one!"

Jack ignored this outburst. "Ye know, mate," he confided to Will, "rum is a pirate's best friend. A man can do all sorts of things when he's drunk that he'd never think about sober."

"Which are?" Will asked distractedly, as he tried to signal the bartender for a refill.

Jack gave him a wink, satiated with sly innuendo and crude possibilities Will couldn't possibly comprehend. "Watch and learn, mate."

He sauntered up to a lovely, curvy, curly-haired barmaid. He flirted with her. Will couldn't hear his words, but they seemed to have their intended effect. She smiled. She giggled. She batted her eyelashes. She twirled a honey-colored curl around her finger and licked her lips.

She slapped him, hard, and left.

Jack stumbled back to Will's side. "I didn't think it went all that badly meself," he remarked.

They sipped their respective alcoholic beverages quietly for a time, until Jack thumped his now-empty tankard onto the bar, turned to Will, and asked in what seemed to be all seriousness, "Did it hurt?"

"Did what hurt?" Will asked, feeling confused. Jack's abrupt changes in topic always left him feeling that way.

"You know," Jack clarified, "'snip, snip.'"

Will felt his face go red. "I am _not_ a eunuch," he growled, so loudly that several people turned around to look at him.

"Could've fooled me," suggested Jack. "The way your bonny lass has been carrying on lately, _something_ has to be lacking."

Will looked at him sourly. He didn't want to think, and here was Jack, insisting that he do so. "We had a fight," he admitted.

"Son, everyone on the _Black Pearl_ knows you had a fight," Jack said. "It was exactly hush-hush."

"She didn't want me to keep looking for my father," Will said sulkily, feeling like a small child. "She didn't think it was a good idea."

"It's not," said Jack. "Can't say I blame her for feeling that way."

Will sent Jack a look of complete outrage. "Whose side are you _on_?" he demanded.

"You, of all people, should know that the only side I'm ever on is my own," said Jack calmly.

"Yes, you've certainly proved _that_," snapped Will.

Jack looked at him almost seriously. Will could never be sure whether it was simulated or not. "I'm not asking you these questions because I have some morbid in the personal affairs of you and your strumpet. I need to know what you're going to do now."

"Now that what?" asked Will exasperatedly, wishing that, just once, Jack would tell him all of what was going on.

"Now that I am providing your ride home," snapped Jack. "Are you going to continue looking for...mmm hmm hmm?" he said, making a you-know-who gesture with his hand.

Will briefly saw Elizabeth's angry face, the pained look in her eyes, and he knew what she would have wanted him to do.

"I am," he said firmly, ignoring the sense of betrayal that was currently afflicting him. His father was alive, and Will owed it to him to find him, no matter the consequences. It didn't matter what Elizabeth thought. It _couldn't _matter, if he meant to find Bootstrap.

Jack looked at him ironically, and Will had the sudden, sneaking suspicion that he knew exactly what was going on inside Will's head. "And what does Elizabeth plan to do?" he inquired levelly.

"She—" Will stopped. What _did_ Elizabeth plan to do, once she learned that Will intent to keep searching. "I—"

Would she stay with him and continue with the journey? Or would she go back to Port Royal with Norrington and the others? And if she left, would she have anything to do with Will once he returned?

"I don't know," he finished lamely.

"I'd suggest you find out, mate," Jack said, and drank his rum.

thisisabreakthisisabreakthisisabreakthisisabreakthisisabreakthisisabreak

I now have a goal in life (my first ever!), and it involves the word "kilt."

CAST OF THOUSANDS: That is one of the words that we'd hoped would NEVER come out of your mouth.

Because Halloween means you can dress up in crazy costumes and NOT have people think you're nuts, I take it upon myself to dress up every year. This year, my costume is relatively boring; just my Renaissance Festival Scottish garb. BUT.

I am convinced that the world would be a better place if my Crazy Cousin Adam, who coincidentally happens to be my beta-reader, would wear a kilt for Halloween. In any case, it would furnish an endless plethora of material for jokes for the rest of my cousin's life, most of them having something to do with "The Scotsman Song."

Naturally, he resists this idea. But that's okay. It just makes my job more fun. But this is why I'm telling you this:

When you review, write a note to Crazy Cousin Adam insisting that he don a kilt. Be persuasive. Lists of reasons would be good. With just enough help, this wonderful goal may come to pass.

So, review.


	20. Chapter Five, the Minority of It

**RETURN TO THE BLACK PEARL**

Um, yeah, Raberba girl, you're right about the "interest" and "wasn't." When I asked Crazy Cousin Adam about, he said that he only ran it through spell-check anyways. Slacker. ;) But we still love you, Crazy Cousin Adam! Even though you won't wear a kilt. :(

CAST OF THOUSANDS: For enough money, _we'll_ wear kilts.

ME: And there's our disturbing image for today, folks!

CAST OF THOUSANDS: Hey...she actually insulted _us_! That's not right! That's not supposed to happen! It's supposed to be the other way around!

ME: Yeah, that's right! _I got you!_

CAST OF THOUSANDS: You know it's really sad when you finally win a battle with your mind.

ME: You're in my mind?!?!

CAST OF THOUSANDS: And _there's _our disturbing image for today.

**

* * *

**

**Chapter Five, A Wretched Hive of Scum and Villainy, Continued For No Apparent Reason**

Anamaria was a woman on a mission.

Currently, her mission was to try to drink one large, hulking man into the dust.

She drained her mug of rum in one gulp and slammed it down victoriously on the filthy table with a bang. Her rival was a half a second slower.

Most of the people crowding the tavern groaned and cursed, digging mournfully in their purses, while a select few roared "huzzahs" and collected the majority's money with eager fingers.

Anamaria trailed her ragged sleeve across her mouth as she briskly collected her own earnings. She had won quite a bit already tonight, and her purse felt much better with shillings, crowns, and doubloons spilling out of it.

The tavern emptied quickly, leaving Anamaria alone to count her money. As she swept the last coin back into her purse, a shadow fell over her and a slightly raspy voice said, "Buy ye a drink, friend?"

Anamaria looked up, annoyed at the interruption, and when she saw the face of her interrupter, her annoyance grew. She shook her head and sighed. "Do ye know what 'no' means?" she asked pointedly.

"Aye," said the seedy-looking pirate who stood over her, grinning cheerfully with yellowed, cracked teeth.

"Then apply it to the situation and leave," she suggested.

"That hurts." The seedy-looking pirate clutched his chest. "That really does, mate."

"I'm not your mate," Anamaria said tartly.

"Not for the lack o' me tryin'," he said. He spit a wad of tobacco that narrowly missed the bartender, who sent the seedy-looking pirate a decidedly evil look. "Anyways, I'm here on business," he added.

"I don't do that kind of business," Anamaria said dryly.

"I didn't have that kind of business in mind," he said reproachfully. "Well, it may have crossed me mind, but I didn't intend to act on it. I heard ye've been asking around for a buyer for a gem of...precious value."

"Ye wouldn't know value if it shot you in the head," suggested Anamaria, but her eyes attention was caught. She had indeed asked around, though she had never imagined that this would be the person to come knocking.

The seedy-looking pirate leaned in close, so that his greasy dark hair touched the bandana wrapped in Anamaria's hair. "Let's see it," he said eagerly.

She shot him a condescending look. "Before we see it, let's see some silver." He held out her hand pointedly.

He sighed regretfully and dug out some coins. He slapped them in Anamaria's waiting palm.

"There'd better be more where that came from," she warned as the coins disappeared into her purse. "A _whole_ lot more."

She reached hesitantly into a pocket inside her worn, tattered frock coat, suddenly reluctant to bring out the black pearl. But that's just daft, she told herself sharply. This was part of her plan. She would sell the black pearl and buy a ship—between the price of the pearl and the money she'd earned tonight, she'd have just enough to cover it—but for some reason, she didn't want to give it up. Daft, she reminded herself, and forced herself to pull the black pearl out of its hiding place.

The seedy-looking pirate's sunken eyes grew grotesquely round as they greedily took in the pearl. He reached out a trembling hand for it. Anamaria smiled in response and pulled her pistol out of her belt, cocked it and pointed it at him.

He looked regretful as he looked at the pistol. "Not taking any chances, are we?" he said reproachfully.

"None at all," she agreed as she handed the pearl over.

He picked it up reverently and held it close before his beady eyes. Anamaria was abruptly reminded of the way the black pearl glittered; that was the look in the seedy-looking pirate's eyes. Bottomless eyes. There was no end to them; you could look into them forever and never see the end.

"How much?" he breathed, and Anamaria held her breath as she named an exorbant figure, one she was certain he couldn't afford. This was the tricky part, the bartering. She felt faint with shock when he nodded immediately in agreement.

"When do ye want the money?" he asked, fingering his purse. Anamaria vaguely wondered where he would get the rest of the money.

"Tomorrow," Anamaria said reluctantly. She didn't want to lose the black pearl so soon, but that was that; she'd found a buyer, and she couldn't afford to pass up this opportunity. At least she'd have one more night with it. Maybe this time, it would give up its secrets to her.

"Tomorrow, then," said the seedy-looking pirate, giving the pearl one last lingering look as he left that might have actually been aimed at Anamaria, but she didn't notice.

She rolled the pearl around in her hands, feeling suddenly guilty. She wondered absently why she hadn't told Jack about the pearl or her plans to leave him. She rolled her eyes. Jack was hardly trustworthy, but she sincerely doubted that he would have stolen the black pearl from her. Captain Jack Sparrow didn't cheat his friends. At least not badly.

But he would feel hurt when Anamaria abruptly quit and left him, leaving him with the vacant position of first mate and fewer friends around that he could trust. He'd never really gotten over the mutiny, and Anamaria had learned to tread lightly where Jack's trust in her was concerned.

Her mind shifted back to the seedy-looking pirate. She hadn't expected to see him tonight. Actually, she hadn't expected to see him ever again. She'd thought that he'd dropped off the face of the earth. Wishful thinking, she supposed.

Anamaria pressed the cool surface of the pearl to her suddenly hot cheek. Would she give it up to him tomorrow? She had to. She needed the money. _Could_ she give it up to him?

She didn't know.**

* * *

**

Uh, yeah, ya know, review, dudes. And if you like _Star Wars_, go R&R a little song parody I wrote entitled "Lookin' For Love (In Alderaan Places)." (raises wine glass, though it's not filled with any sort of alcoholic beverage because the author is not old enough to drink) Here's to updates!

Uh, yeah, ya know, review, dudes. And if you like , go R&R a little song parody I wrote entitled "Lookin' For Love (In Alderaan Places)." (raises glass, though it's not filled with any sort of alcoholic beverage because the author is not old enough to drink) Here's to updates! 

CAST OF THOUSANDS: (raises glasses) Here's hoping we see one in the next hundred years!

EDIT: Hey, just correcting some formatting problems I had. Look for an update after Thanksgiving! I'll be at my grandmothers that week, so I'll have _plenty _of time to get a chapter written. There's nothing else to do there, anyway. Hopefully you'll get the entire chapter when I post.  And what's with the freaky new format for the QuickEdit?!?!


	21. Chapter Six, Scene One

**RETURN TO THE BLACK PEARL**

Wow. It's been so long since I updated this fic that I don't know if anybody's going to bother to check up on it.

CAST OF THOUSANDS: Don't worry, nobody is. Actually, they're all quite relieved that you stopped writing.

ME: It's so close to Christmas, or whatever holiday you celebrate this time of year! How can you be so mean? Have you no holiday spirit, or even some kind of alcoholic spirit that will produce more or less the same effect?

CAST OF THOUSANDS: It's easy. Half of us are Grinches and the other half are Scrooges. We spread mayhem and mischief throughout the year, and discord and absurdly high prices during December.

ME: Hmm. That explains a lot.

Anyways, this chapter has not been betaed by Crazy Cousin Adam, so any mistakes are the fault of…someone else.

* * *

**Chapter Five: A Change In Plans**

Elizabeth had never felt so alone.

She clung to the railing on the side of the _Black Pearl_, her gaze drifting over the ocean and coming to rest on the island of Tortuga. Will was there, somewhere. She didn't know where. She didn't know where he was anymore.

Elizabeth spotted Jack coming up the gangway, stumbling with what seemed to be beyond his usual norm and looking like something the cat dragged in—or possibly just threw up. He walked up to the wheel and ran a loving hand over the smoothly polished wood, his brow furrowing with some other emotion as he surveyed the rest of his ship. His kohl-rimmed eyes met Elizabeth's, and rather to her surprise, she ambled over to her side.

"Where have you been?" she asked him.

Jack waved his hand vaguely. "Places. Not important. Not fit for ladies' ears, anyway." His face settled and took on a look of grim worry that Elizabeth had noticed previously.

"Is something wrong?" Elizabeth asked him with some concern.

"Aye," said Jack. "Many things. I need a drink." He pulled a musty-smelling bottled out from the inside of his frock coat, which Elizabeth immediately snatched out of his hands.

"Drink isn't the answer, Jack," she reprimanded him.

"I never knew the question, luv," he responded, and retrieved the bottle from her grasp.

He opened it and took a long swig. When he finished, he wiped his moustache with his sleeve and asked Elizabeth in a friendly manner, "So, why haven't you and the whelp tied the knot and settled down in a cottage by the sea with a whole passel of little ones?"

Elizabeth had to look away as a stab of ice pierced her heart. "I don't know," she said slowly. "He hasn't even asked me yet," she admitted.

Even though she wasn't looking at Jack, Elizabeth could tell he was taken aback. She could feel his hastily muted surprise; it was there in the sharp breath he took.

"That's very interesting," murmured Jack, seemingly to no one in particular.

Suddenly Elizabeth felt defensive. "Not, it's not," she snapped. "Will's just waiting…for the opportune moment, you might say." But even as she said the words, she wondered if the opportune moment would ever come for them.

Jack raised his hands to placate her. "Sorry, luv. Didn't mean to rub salt in your wounds."

"It's not a wound," Elizabeth protested—feebly, she knew. "It's not a wound."

"Suit yourself." Jack shrugged and took another drink. "Tell me this, luv. Why don't you want the Will to find his father?"

A surge of guilt mingled with surprise washed over Elizabeth. "What makes you say that?" she asked, feeling uncomfortable.

Jack opened his arms in a wide gesture. "I'm drunk, not blind."

Elizabeth rested her arms against the rail. "It's just that…" she trailed off. Jack motioned for her to continue. "It's just that—what if it's not him?" she demanded.

"Bootstrap?" Jack asked cannily, and Elizabeth nodded.

"He'll be so disappointed. No, it's more than that—he'll be crushed," she said.

"And that's your reason?" he asked ironically. "That's it?"

She glared at him. No, it wasn't it, and they both knew it. But did he _have_ to rub it in her face?

"He's counting on this, Jack. It means everything in the world to him." She sighed. "It means more to him than me," she finished softly; feeling tired, as if admitting that truth had taken everything out of her. "He doesn't _see_ me anymore, Jack. He can't see anything else. He's—he's—"

"Obsessed?" Jack finished for her, and she nodded.

Elizabeth glanced at him. He was staring off into the distance. "What about you?" she asked. "Why don't _you_ want Will to find his father?"

Jack sputtered on his drink, spraying rum everywhere. "What makes you think I don't?" he asked in discomfit.

She gave him a slightly mocking smile. "I'm depressed, not blind," she said.

"Touché," remarked Jack, but he didn't answer her question. After a moment, he offered her the bottle of rum, and this time, Elizabeth accepted.

* * *

Yes, it was short. However, I WILL update soon.

CAST OF THOUSANDS: Yeah, right.

ME: Sooner.

CAST OF THOUSANDS: We'll believe it when we see it.

ME: Were you not hugged enough as children?

CAST OF THOUSANDS: What? No! Get away from us!!! NO HUGGING!!!!!!! AAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! Ugh, hug cooties. Ew.

Happy holidays, everybody!


	22. Chapter Six, Scene Two

**RETURN TO THE BLACK PEARL**

I can't believe I'm updating this quickly. This almost never happens anymore.

CAST OF THOUSANDS: We agree. This is highly suspicious. Where is the real author, and what have you done with the story?

FAKE ME: All right, all right, I confess! I'm not the real author! Please don't sue me! I've got the story in my pocket! Here, take it!

CAST OF THOUSANDS: And the author?

FAKE ME: Bound and gagged in my trunk.

CAST OF THOUSANDS: That's probably for the best. Well, since we've got the story, we might as well post it.

* * *

**Chapter Six: A Change In Plans, Continued **

Anamaria slid into her seat of the night before with the comforting weight of the black pearl in her pocket, desperately hoping the seedy-looking pirate wouldn't show up and wondering in the back of her mind what would happen if he didn't.

She fiddled with the pearl through her pocket as she waited for him to show up. Her eyelids drooped, but she forced them open—she had to be alert in a place like this. If she weren't, her throat would be slit in a moment and the black pearl stolen from her lifeless hands.

But staying awake was hard. After leaving the tavern last night, Anamaria had returned to her cabin on the _Black Pearl_. She had placed the black pearl in her chest and had practically fallen into her bunk, completely exhausted.

She hadn't slept a wink.

The second after her head hit the pillow, her eyes popped open as voices filled the cabin, whispering, "Let us out."

The voices rose and fell like a wind, gradually getting louder so that it was all Anamaria could do to keep from screaming as she lay in her bunk, frozen with something akin to terror.

A gnarly hand grasped her shoulder and Anamaria wheeled around, drawing her cutlass in belated defense.

"Easy," said the seedy-looking pirate, sounding amused. "It's just me."

Anamaria relaxed as far as her rattled nerves allowed her to. "D'ya have the money?" she managed to asked.

"Aye," he said ruefully. "An' getting' it' cost me an arm and a leg."

"Looks to me like they're both still attached," she shot back. "And don't ye think that—" she flashed him a glance of the black pearl—"that _this_ is worth it?"

"Lass, if ye knew what that really was, it'd be costin' me a sight more," he said grimly.

Anamaria eyed him narrowly. He knew something about the pearl that she didn't, something that had caused him to fork out the outrageous amount of money she had demanded for it.

"Why is that?" she edged.

He showed her a predator's grin that was all teeth. "A story for another time."

"Tell me," she coaxed. "For curiosity's sake."

"Curiosity wasn't part of the deal," the seedy-looking pirate reminded her. He pulled out an enormous bag and dumped it on the table between them. "This _was_."

This was it—now or never. _I need the money_," Anamaria reminded herself, and, closing her eyes, slowly put her hand out to relinquish the black pearl.

The door to the tavern was flung open with a _crack!_ that caused her eyes to snap open in alarm. But she couldn't believe what they told her, and any thoughts about the black pearl or the seedy-looking pirate were banished instantly from her mind as she froze in place by an emotion that might have been acute astonishment mingled with fear.

A short, balding man with yellow teeth and eyes stomped through the door and practically slammed it on a taller, skinny man with one organic eye and one wooden eye, both of them, most likely, with a tendency to roam. Behind these two seedy-looking characters—seedier even than the pirate that sat across from Anamaria—trooped half-a-dozen more just like them.

Anamaria knew them all, by face, although not by name. She snapped out of her frozen trance and grabbed the seedy-looking pirate's hand, pulling him down to the floor.

He made a noise of surprise as he went down, and Anamaria quickly wrapped her hand across his mouth. "Be quiet!" she hissed at him, and tried to listen in on the pirates' conversation.

The seedy-looking pirate pulled Anamaria's hand off his mouth. "Who are they?" he whispered.

She didn't look at him. "You've heard about the mutiny of the _Black Pearl_, haven't ye?" she asked.

"Aye," he responded. "I've heard stories. Jack Sparrow's first mate turned on him, right?"

She glared at the pirates, who were ordering drinks at the bar. "Right. And these are the mutineers."

"Ah," he said. "But why are _you _hiding from them?"

"Because," Anamaria whispered, "about a year ago, Jack got the _Pearl_ back. And I helped him. They'll recognize me. And I want to know what they're up to. So _be quiet._"

A tall man with long black hair and a beard stood on a table and addressed the pirates with a tankard of rum in hand. He wore large gold hoops in his ears and was dressed flamboyantly in purple and scarlet. "Well, mates, the end is in sight," he began smoothly. His tone was polished and oily, and it didn't take a genius to see that he thought quite highly of himself.

Anamaria stiffened under the table. "What's _he _doing here?" she whispered hotly. "He's not one of _them_."

The seedy-looking pirate glanced at her. "Who's that?" he questioned.

"Hawkins," Anamaria spat. "He wasn't one of Barbossa's minions, but he's almost as bad. He was Jack's first mate before Barbossa, and his protégé. Jack was like a father to him, taught him everything he knew, and that sorry excuse for a pirate stole everything he had and ran away in the middle of the night."

Her eyes narrowed into reptilian slits. "I'd like to know how he to be the ringleader of these _reprobates_."

Hawkins continued. He used dramatic, theatrical gestures when he talked, much like Jack did, but his were decidedly fake. "We've hunted and searched and scavenged for one long year, but now…" He trailed off, and leaned in close to the pirates. "_We've got him._ Right in the palm of our hand. It' taken some doing, but now the Sparrow is a sitting duck."

"They know we're here," Anamaria whispered in disbelief.

Hawkins's voice rose dramatically. "We can now take our long-overdue revenge on Sparrow, and get our ship back as well!"

This was punctuated by many cheers by the pirates. Anamaria almost felt sorry for them. They had been taken in so obviously by Hawkins's glib ways and his persuasive tongue. _Fools_, she thought contemptuously.

But she had to warn Jack about them. Fools they might be, but dangerous ones. "Come on," she hissed to the seedy-looking pirate, and headed towards the exit on her hands and knees, out of sight from the pirates. The seedy-looking pirate followed her in surprised obedience.

* * *

REAL ME: Mummpheowwha!

CAST OF THOUSANDS: What was that? We can't understand you with that gag in your mouth.

REAL ME: Mummp-hmmm, mummpheowwha!

CAST OF THOUSANDS: _Ohhh_. She says she wants you to review. You'd better do it. She's been locked in a trunk for five days now, and she's hungry and out for blood.


	23. Chapter Six, Scene Three

**RETURN TO THE BLACK PEARL**

Wow. It's been FOREVER since I last updated this fic.

CAST OF THOUSANDS: You are _not _kidding.

ME: I can only I'm sorry so many times.

CAST OF THOUSANDS: We'll tell you when to stop.

* * *

**Chapter Six: A Change in Plans, Continued**

"Jack!"

Norrington turned at the cry just in time to see the female pirate called Anamaria practically fly up the gangway, closely followed by a bemused-looking dark-haired man that seemed familiar.

Jack peered down at her from his perch in the crow's nest of the _Black Pearl_. "Aye?" he idly called, as if whatever news she was the bearer of could be nothing more exciting than the menu for dinner.

Anamaria stormed across the deck to stand underneath him, and Norrington found himself jumping backwards to avoid being trampled by her furious rush.

"It's those _bloody _pirates," she spat angrily, her hands on her hips in a pose of indignant outrage. Norrington could practically _see _tendrils of smoke curling out her mouth. "They've found us."

Jack looked staggered for a moment. He swore forcefully and promptly leaped out of the crow's nest with the aid of a rope to land next to Anamaria.

"How close are they, luv?" Jack asked her.

"Firing distance," Anamaria said grimly.

Jack swore again, and turned to shout at the crew, "Pack up, everyone. Vacation's over." The crew issued a collective groan, but their captain ignored them. "Get the _Pearl_ ready to go as soon as possible. And that means on the double, ye scurvy dogs! There's been a change o' plans."

"We had a plan?" Norrington heard Tearlach, one of the crew, wonder aloud as he staggered past.

"Naw," Marty explained to him. "That was just a rumor."

Gibbs moved quickly to Jack's side, his weather-beaten face looking worried. "Where're we goin', Cap'n?"

"Anywhere, so long as it's not here," replied Jack absently as he began to bustle around the _Black Pearl_ frantically, shouting orders at Gibbs and the crew.

"_What?" _demanded Norrington in disbelief, as he trailed behind them. "You're just going to set sail, without any sort of plan or destination?"

"That's the general idea, mate," Jack replied.

"That's _insane_," hissed Norrington at him. "The _Black Pearl_'s repairs have not yet been completed—you'd never even make it back to Port Royal!"

Jack stood very still. "Listen here, and listen good," he said softly, so that only Norrington could hear him. "You may be the Commodore of the Royal Navy, but on this ship, you have _no _authority." He made a circular motion with his arms. "So the next time you feel like challenging my decisions, mate, ye'd best remember who is captain, and who is not."

Norrington flinched in spite of himself, but Jack's attention was suddenly diverted by the seedy-looking pirate.

"_You_," Jack said to him, with a little start of recognition. "What're _you_ doing here?"

The seedy-looking pirate jerked his thumb at Anamaria. "I'm with her."

Jack appraised him in silence for several moments. "You stay, you work," he said at last.

He turned away to ask Gibbs, "Who's still on shore?"

Gibbs glanced around the deck. "Only one I see missin' t'would be Will. I'll send someone t' get 'im, Cap'n."

"Don't bother," said a new voice acidly. Norrington looked up to see Elizabeth emerge from below decks. "_I _certainly don't care to have him back." She stalked away haughtily to her cabin door and slammed it shut.

Norrington stared after her, trying not feel hopeful. But it didn't help to hear Jack murmur beside him, "Sure would hate to be the whelp."

The anchor was hoisted and the sails were set in record time, and the _Black Pearl_ put a good bit of distance between herself and Tortuga. Norrington could tell that the crew was getting more and more relaxed the farther away the shore was, but he resisted the urge to do the same. It was always at this point that things would start to go wrong.

Naturally, they did.

"Storm comin' up, Cap'n!" shouted Gibbs above the rising wind as he struggled with the sails.

The wheel of the _Black Pearl_ slipped and slid against Jack's straining fingers. The ship jerked unsteadily and twisted around to the opposite direction. Jack spared an incredulous glance to the black-clouded heavens. "Couldn't be," he said. "It was fine when we left. Beautiful, even."

"Well, it's not now," Norrington snapped at Jack. He had no idea why he was worried—he ought to be glad that the rising storm could take out an entire pirate ship, sparing him the trouble of doing it himself—but he was. _What is there to be worried about? _he tried to reason with himself. It was not his ship, it was not his crew. But the worry was there.

The crew abruptly went silent. Norrington looked around, bemused, wondering what was wrong. He glanced at Jack. The pirate was still staring, but at the compass in his hand, the one that Norrington remembered as bring broken. He thought he could see Jack's fingers shaking minutely.

"Jack," said Gibbs in strange voice. Jack didn't respond. "Jack, the _Pearl_…" he trailed off.

Then in a flash, Norrington saw it. He moved to lean over the railing. "The _Black Pearl_," he said heavily. Jack finally looked at him. "She's traveling against the current."

"And," Gibbs said quietly, "she's travelin' opposite the wind."

"Cap'n, what are we to do?" shouted Anamaria from the other side of the deck.

Jack snapped out of his strange trance. "There's a harbor a few leagues away. We'll head to shore to wait it out."

The wind rose. The _Black Pearl's _sails snapped in the rain-filled gust, and Jack swore as the wheel was wrenched out of his hands. It spun around and around like a child's top, and try as he might, Jack wasn't able to regain control.

But he didn't seem to need to. The wheel continued to spin of its own accord.

The entire ship was silent. It was an eerie absence of breath that left Norrington cold. Jack whipped out his compass again and checked it against the direction that should've been North.

"On the other hand," Jack said slowly, "it looks like the _Black Pearl _has other other ideas."

* * *

Will slammed open the door to Jack's cabin. "What's going _on_?" he demanded. Then he noticed Elizabeth. She just looked at him mutely and then turned away, as if the sight of him was too painful for her to bear. She leaned against a wall next to a port and folded her arms.

Gibbs sat limply on Jack's bunk, turning his battered hat around and around in his hands. Norrington was there as well, looking uncomfortable as he stood next to Gibbs.

Jack was rummaging in the drawers of his desk. "I don't know," he said, much to Will's surprise. "This has never happened before." Will didn't know if this news made him feel better or worse.

Just then Anamaria barged in much like Will had, only with more noise. "What in the name of Davy Jones just _happened_?" she demanded, her dark eyes flashing.

Jack slammed the desk drawer shut and pulled open another one. He made an exclamatory noise and pulled out from the rubble a bottle of rum. Elizabeth eyed it disapprovingly. "This is hardly the time to get drunk," she said sternly.

"On the contrary, luv," Jack responded, uncorking the bottle and leaning his chair back against the wall. "It's the _perf_e_ct_ time to get drunk."

The _Black Pearl_ shuddered. Will could feel the trembling beneath his feet even through his buckled shoes. The ship tipped dangerously to one side, and Will could feel the hair on the back of his neck rise in a response to an eerie groaning that seemed to come from the _Pearl_. Everyone in the cabin glanced at each other uneasily. Norrington turned to look cautiously out a port, and when the ship moaned again, Jack set all four legs of his chair back down on the floor with a _thunk_. For a long moment, there was silence on the ship.

Then the _Black Pearl_ stood on one end.

Will heard shrieks and screams come from outside the cabin as he plunged backwards, managing somehow to grab the doorframe for support. Gibbs rolled off the bunk and landed with a heavy _thud _on the floor. Norrington was able to catch Elizabeth as she pitched forward, preventing her from hitting the floor.

Jack fell out of his chair. The bottle of rum fell out of his hand and smashed, the glass splintering in all directions.

Anamaria hit the floor much like Gibbs and rolled forward several feet before losing momentum. Something dark and heavy slipped out of her pocket and crashed into the door. Unlike the bottle, it didn't break.

The _Black Pearl _went still.

Everyone in the tiny cabin stared at the object. It looked to Will like a pearl, unnaturally colored black and larger than any gem he'd ever seen before. He looked up quickly at Anamaria in amazement. He had no idea how something so valuable could come to be in the hands of a pirate—except, of course, the obvious: stealing.

Anamaria seemed frozen as she stared at the pearl, making no move to retrieve it. Jack was much the same way. He stared at the pearl intently with some strange emotion in his face.

Elizabeth was drinking up the whole scene, her eyes opened wide and flitting back and forth between Jack, Anamaria, and the black pearl; Norrington stared at Anamaria with the same sort of suspicion as Will.

"_Where did you get that?_" breathed Jack, never taking his eyes off the pearl.

His words seemed to break Anamaria's spell. Her eyes snapped up to glance at him uncertainly, almost fearfully, and she whispered, "Off the _Duty Free_. When we plundered it." When Jack didn't respond, she added, "What is it, Jack?" in a low voice.

Jack looked at her then, seemingly surprised. "Ye don't recall it then?" he asked, in almost his natural voice.

Anamaria looked at him uncertainly and shook her head. "Nay. Should I?"

"Oh, yes," Jack said, and took a deep, shuddering breath. He looked back at the pearl laying on the floor. "Then I suppose I should jog your memory." He glanced around the cabin at the other, appearing to notice them for the first time. "And I should explain to the rest of you what you've just gotten yourselves into."

Then he began his story.

* * *

CAST OF THOUSANDS: That's a cliffhanger. That's not very nice.

ME: But it IS the end of chapter six! And coming up is chapter seven, where everything will be explained.

CAST OF THOUSANDS: We hope. And since it's been proven that the plausible-ness of her explanations is directly related to the number of reviews she gets, you should probably review this chapter. And that means YOU.


	24. Chapter Seven, Scene One

**RETURN TO THE BLACK PEARL**

Hello, hello, hello!

CAT OF THOUSANDS: Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.

ME: Hey!

CAST OF THOUSANDS: You're late again.

ME: It's not _that _big a deal. And besides, I'm busy.

CAST OF THOUSANDS: _Sure._

ME: No, really! Whoever said that your senior year is the easiest year of high school was a big, fat, stinky liar.

CAST OF THOUSANDS: We're not fat. And it's true.

* * *

**Chapter Seven: The Missing Links, Scene One**

Will folded his arms and pressed them tightly against his chest, leaning against the wall of Jack's cabin.

Jack looked at the floor and folded his fingers into steeples. "It was a long time ago,' he began. "Neigh on twenty years. A bit more, maybe. Back then, your father and I were crewmates on the bonny ship _Bloody Mary_, Will."

Will couldn't help but flinch. He was still uncomfortable hearing about his father's history as a pirate.

Elizabeth shuddered. "What a horrible name," she said.

"But a bloody fine drink," Jack commented. "The _Bloody Mary_ was under the command of a man named Roberts. A good man, as you know some pirates can be." Here he looked ironically at Norrington, who regarded Jack with a skeptical look.

"Named the ship after his daughter, did Roberts," Jack continued. "He had a wife, but she never liked sailing; lived in a fine house in England while Roberts was at sea. Suited them both, I imagine, until the day she died and left him with a girl he'd only seen once or twice a year. So he took to live with him on the _Bloody Mary_. She quite took to the pirating life. Quite the little firebrand, was your mother, Will."

Will felt the sensation of a glass bottle shatter over his head. He felt like the breath had been knocked out of him. "_What_?" he gasped, with the air of a man drowning in a sea of surprising news.

"I don't suppose she ever told you that," Jack said to Will thoughtfully.

"I should think not," snapped Will.

"Oh, well," Jack said philosophically. "There's quite a few more skeletons hanging in your family closet, boy, so you better get used to seeing the bones when they're pulled out. Yes, your mother was a pirate. Bloody good one, too. She came to live on the _Bloody Mary_ right after William and I had, er, joined the crew, so to speak," Jack said rather evasively.

" 'Joined the crew?' " Norrington said suspiciously.

"In a manner of speaking," Jack said defensively. "Anyway, it was love at first blood and all that when William and Mary first laid eyes on each other."

"Wait," said Elizabeth, her eyebrows knitting. "Love at first _blood?"_

"Oh, they had a few lovers' quarrels now and again," said Jack airily. "There was hardly any deaths at all. But I worked my way up to firsts mate and William was quartermaster. Thick as thieves, we were."

"You _were_ thieves," observed Norrington.

Jack waved this aside. He closed his eyes for a moment, and Will was taken aback by this brief moment of weakness. "But this story begins in the Gulf of Mexico, where Roberts was looking for a merchant ship to seize. Preferably a Spanish one. Spanish merchants from the New World tended to have shiny things, like gold and silver.

"What we found were slaves." Jack slammed a fist down so suddenly and fiercely that everyone jumped. Except Anamaria. She closed her eyes and looked faintly sick.

Will glanced warily at Jack. It was so unlike the self-possessed—some said demon-possessed—pirate he had thought he'd known.

"Slaves?" whispered Elizabeth, looking confused, when suddenly her eyes flickered to Anamaria in horrified understanding.

"Aztec slaves," whispered Anamaria. "And I was one of them." Will could see a tear trickling down her cheek. Norrington, he saw, was looking at her too, only he looked faintly embarrassed by her tears. The seedy-looking pirate looked alarmed by this display of emotion and slunk deeper into his dark corner.

Gibbs reached out with a gnarled comforting hand and patted her gently on her shoulder. "There, lass," he said, sounding as uncomfortable as the rest of them.

"Those dirty pigs," Anamaria snarled. "They stole us from our families, ripped us from our homeland! Anything was better than being with them. Even being a pirate!"

Will saw Norrington jerk slightly in surprise and frown thoughtfully. Will suspected that this was the first time he had ever been forced to wonder _why _pirates became pirates. He knew how _that _felt. He'd wondered often enough how his father had become a pirate, and Jack. But it looked like that was a story for another time.

Jack gave her a moment to compose herself, and gently carried on. "We took the slaves onboard the _Bloody Mary_ and sank the slave ship with the slavers tied in the hold. Roberts never liked slavers. Went against his morals." Jack made a face suggesting this concept was alien, mystifying, and that he thoroughly agreed with it.

"We were taking the slaves to Tortuga, where Roberts planned to set them free. But we got caught in a storm, the worst many of us had ever seen in out lives. And when it cleared, there she was.

"The _Black Pearl_."

Jack's face softened slightly at the mention of his beloved ship. "She wasn't called that then, of course. Her lettering was faded, but we could still make it out. Her name then was the _Doña Muerta_. She was just drifting in the water, and there didn't seem to be anyone aboard. Of course, Roberts saw a prime opportunity to add a ship to his personal fortune and start himself a fleet of pirate ships. So he assigned me as her captain and sent me and William over to check her out."

Jack cleared his throat, managing to look a bit sheepish. "I'm sorry to say that my intentions were a touch less noble than usual."

Norrington snorted. "Your intentions are _never _noble."

Jack looked highly affronted. "Shows how much _you _know. And it was William's idea. He and Mary decided to elope. So we snuck her with us in the longboat. And, of course, Anamaria decided she had to come along, so she stowed away without any of us knowing."

He closed his eyes tightly. When he spoke again, his voice was hoarse. "What we found on the _Doña Muerta _was worse than any nightmare I had ever had.

"Skeletons. There were skeletons everywhere. On the deck, in the hold, there were skeletons. In the captain's cabin there was a skeleton laying in bed with a map and a magnifying glass by his side. The _Pearl_—" Jack paused, appearing to struggle for words—"She looked like she did when Barbossa had her. Only worse. Back then, she was a ship of the dead.

"There was a figurehead of a woman on the bow, but she was so covered with seaweed and mussels that the only thing we could see of her was her hand, reaching out. And the black pearl that she held."

Will glanced quickly at the black pearl, still laying on the ground. Although the _Black Pearl _still tossed and turned, it didn't budge.

"William and I began to move her away from the _Bloody Mary_. Or rather, we _tried_ to. Her wheel wouldn't hardly budge. Until, when Roberts finally noticed what we were doing—or attempting to do—and began to fire at us.

"The firsts shot was the only one that hit us. After that we were too far away for the cannons to connect. And that first shot didn't even damage her. It only took out the black pearl in the figurehead's hand."

"And that was that," Jack finished simply. "We took the _Pearl _to Tortuga to get repairs and a new crew. William and Mary got married, and Mary stayed behind in Tortuga when we headed off. Three days later, I was marooned on an island and Barbossa had my ship."

* * *

So, read, review, and wait for the next chapter.

CAST OF THOUSANDS: Feel free to spam her if you become annoyed at her lateness.

ME: Is lateness a word?

CAST OF THOUSANDS: It is now.

Seriously, thanks to my lovely new reviews from Raberba girl and SweetTiggerOMine for inspiring me to actually complete this chapter. Feel free to bug me whenever you want a new chapter. I don't mind.


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